


Refuge

by sra_danvers



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-01-27 18:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 41,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1718603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sra_danvers/pseuds/sra_danvers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, is being buried beneath Erebor. King Fíli banishes Nori and Dwalin from Erebor for failing in their duty of protecting their King. At the Shire, Dwalin and Nori arrive at Bag End, but they are not alone; Gandalf is with them, carrying a wounded dwarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burial

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DestinysWindow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinysWindow/gifts).



> Thanks to nickygabriel for the fest, I want to finish posting and read all the wonderful stories and great art we have thanks to his initiative.  
> Thanks to the wonderful artists who chose my story, I tried to do the best I can just for them. A kiss to jali_jali for the awesome cover ;-*  
> Thanks especially to DestinysWindow and my friend bk7brokemybrain for the last minute beta-reading.  
> English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes and bad use of the language. This is only readable at all thanks to the beta work. Especially to DestinysWindow (heartshapedkey at [Tumblr](http://heartshapedkey.tumblr.com/)) who not only helped me with grammar and spelling, but she improved my plot and helped me to draw my characters more IC. :-* I’m glad I met such a generous woman, who gifted me her time and knowledge. I hope I can maintain her friendship from now on.

Deep beneath Erebor lay the King under the Mountain, cold in his tombstone.

Thorin Oakenshield’s subjects were paying homage to their much-lamented King, his loyal Company at the front of the crowd in the burial chamber.

Facing the tomb and the sad crowd was Lady Dís and her sons: Prince Kíli and King Fíli.

Fíli was the only one of all attending who sat, for he still suffered from the wounds inflicted at the Battle of the Five Armies. His mother and brother stood at both sides of his makeshift throne.

Thranduil the Elven king was the first to approach the dwarf’s mortal remains, with what seemed like a sword in his hand. Even though the Royal Guard had been informed of the nature of the present, the dwarves were on alert; after the terrible events that had happened to their King, the dwarves of Erebor were again a mistrustful people.

“I ordered a new scabbard for _Orcrist_ , fit for a King,” Thranduil said, bowing his head lightly to the tomb. “I would have given it to His Royal Highness in the upcoming second anniversary of the retaking of the Lonely Mountain. I regret that his hand will never draw _Orcrist_ again.”

The Elven King presented the sheath to Lady Dís, who took _Orcrist_ with reverence from her brother’s lifeless hand and sheathed it with the elvish present.

Before returning to his Mirkwood entourage, Thranduil bowed low to King Fíli, offering his support.

Gandalf the Grey was next to pay his respects to the late King. He bowed to the tomb and took off his hat.

“It’s tragic that you died just a year after having reclaimed the mountain, my friend. You’ll be dearly missed,” the wizard said fondly, drying his tears with a handkerchief. “On my way to your burial I looked for something you’ll certainly want in the Halls of Waiting.”

The cavern reverberated with sounds of wonder and respect when the wizard showed what he had been hiding in his cloak: Thorin’s oaken shield. He offered the piece of wood to Lady Dís, to be placed in the King’s other hand.

Instead of returning to his place, Gandalf bowed to King Fíli and positioned himself behind his throne, between Kíli and Lady Dís. With his hat and staff, his imposing bearing was a blatant warning for the Durins’ enemies.

Dáin then took a step forward, but Dwalin blocked his path with his big body. The dwarves from the Iron Hills whispered angry complaints, but Dáin went back to his place silently.

Óin, who hadn’t heard a thing, started the Company parade. In their best formal clothes, they went by Thorin’s tomb. Glóin followed his brother with a fierce and determined look in his eyes.

Balin was next, staring down and not once looking at his deceased King.

Dwalin, on the contrary, couldn’t look away from Thorin’s body. Wearing his gala uniform and with weapons in his hands, Dwalin was an impressive presence even with a minor limp and various bruises and cuts on his face. When Dwalin arrived at the end of the tomb, he left the axe and the sword he was carrying at the feet of the King. Lady Dís made an Iglishmêk  
sign, requesting that he give her the offering, but Dwalin shook his head.

“I don’t want your hands to touch these weapons. The blades are still stained by the blood of Thorin’s slayers.” Then he addressed his words to his late King. “I couldn’t save you, but I finished off your enemies,” Dwalin touched the tombstone with respect before following his brother.

Dori was the first of the company to bow to King Fíli, for he was not a close relative. Ori, with tears in his eyes, followed his brother’s example and bowed low too. Looking at Kíli, he smiled sadly and dared to give Lady Dís a small book, which the dwarrowdam took with respect and placed it in the King’s tomb.

When Nori was in front of the sepulchre, Fíli suddenly stood.

“No you don’t!” The King yelled.

The burial chamber went silent. Kíli helped his brother, who still needed assistance walking, to approach the stunned redheaded dwarf.

“You failed in your duty as a Master Spy and now my uncle is dead,” Fíli said bitterly. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Nori looked anxiously to the exit. His hands itched for his hidden weapons. He looked around for Dwalin and the warrior returned his gaze reassuringly.

“I had no idea the royal caravan was going to be assaulted. If I had heard any word…”

“But you knew the king’s life was in danger,” Kíli stated heatedly. “He had suffered many attempts on his life. Your job was preventing them!” he bellowed.

Fíli raised his hand, calming his brother. The new king sighed deeply and rubbed his tired eyes. Then he looked at his mother, who nodded lightly.

“Nori, son of Dwori, for failing the deceased King Under the Mountain I condemn you to exile.” The deathly silence was broken by some gasps and sobs. “You were part of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, for that I spare your life. But you must pay.”

Leaning on his brother, Fíli reached behind his back and took one of his daggers. Ori whined when the king put it close to his brother’s neck, but Fíli just took the long plait in his hand.

Nori closed his eyes in despair at the feel of the blade against his hair.

“No! You can’t…” Dwalin said approaching the King. Kíli stopped him. “I’m as culpable as he for Thorin’s death.”

“I know,” Fíli said unkindly, glaring at the warrior. “Only your place in the line of Durin spares you from banishment,” he stated, not lowering his dagger.

For a moment nobody made a move until Dwalin took the axes from his back. The Royal Guard was on alert, fearing their Captain would attack the king. But Dwalin just threw them at Fíli’s feet.

“In that case, I don’t want to follow an unfair king,” Dwalin said harshly.

“So be it,” Fíli said, his eyes red and tearful.

The king tried to cut Nori’s braid, but his right arm was not yet strong enough to work. His dagger was cutting a few hairs every slice, and all the crowd had their eyelids half-closed, as if they were the ones suffering Nori’s humiliation.

“Your Highness, please,” Dori said, approaching the King. “Allow me to administer my brother’s punishment, to redeem the name of my family.”

Fíli nodded, visibly relieved. Dori took his own knife and skilfully cut Nori’s long braid. Without meeting his brother’s eyes, he offered the red plait to the King. Fíli simply threw it carelessly at his uncle’s feet, on top of his enemies’ weapons.

Ori’s moans were muffled on Balin’s chest, who was glaring at his own brother.

Together, Dwalin and Nori left the burial chamber, their heads held high.

After that terrible episode the ‘Ur family passed by Thorin’s tombstone, their faces sad and concerned.

Finally, Dáin moved towards the king’s tomb.

“Cousin,” he whispered, leaning toward Thorin’s head. Lady Dís met his eyes and shook her head, which told him he didn’t have permission to get closer to the deceased. Nodding, the Lord of the Iron Hills went to the throne and bowed low to the new king.

“I would like to say a few words,” he said respectfully. Fíli consented, even with his lips tightly closed. Dáin turned around to the crowd. “We’re in Erebor only thanks to the willpower and courage of Thorin Oakenshield and his Company. Mahal will judge those who took his life!” He screamed with genuine fury.

All the dwarves in the hall shouted in agreement, especially the dwarves from the Blue Mountains.

When the burial chamber went silent again, people approached the tomb in a line, slowly passing by Thorin’s body to show their respects.

Bard the Bowman and his family were in the queue, as touched as any dwarf. Thorin had come to trust and respect the new Lord of Dale.

When all those present had returned to their place, Fíli stood again. He moved closer to his uncle’s tomb and sighed deeply, trying to control his tears.

“Thorin Oakenshield, Son of Thráin, Son of Thrór, you ruled briefly but fairly. Your people will always remember you, and we will be ever thankful for our home. Rest in peace and may the mountain guard your heart and soul.”

Fíli took the Arkenstone from his tunic, the white light illuminating all the astonished faces, and he put it reverentially on top of Thorin’s chest.

“Your… Highness,” a Lord of the Iron Hills said. Kíli looked at his mother before getting closer to his brother. “I wouldn’t want to impose but… the Arkenstone needs to be in its rightful place, over the throne of the mountain,” he said, trying to appear kind, even when he was acting cunningly.

“I’m Lady Dís, daughter of Thráin, son of Thrór,” the dwarrowdam said, speaking for the first time during the funeral. “My son doesn’t need a stone to be King of Erebor!”

The refugees of Ered Luin, all loyal to the Lady, roared in accord.

The dwarves of the Iron Hills, especially the Lord that had spoken, lightly bowed their heads.

Fíli finally bowed to his uncle and returned to the throne, exhausted.

Lady Dís then approached the tomb and stoically took Thorin’s crown from his head. Keeping it high, she returned to her son and put the mithril circlet on Fíli’s blond head.

All those present bowed; some lower than others; some with tears in their eyes. The dwarves improvised a tune, humming an old song about loss and hope.

Gandalf then took Dwalin’s axes _Grasper_ and _Keeper_ and laid them on top of Thorin’s legs. Then he closed the tombstone with a movement of his staff, creating a glow that lit up the burial chamber as if it was be a fine day outside.

“Powerful spells protect Thorin Oakenshield’s place of rest. Be damned those who disturb his peace,” Gandalf said, his voice resounding into the cave.

The crowd then left the burial chamber, where only the King, his family, the Company, and Gandalf remained.


	2. Welcome to Bag End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazing [bbeckx](http://bbeckx.livejournal.com/) and the awesome [asparklethatisblue](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com)

Someone knocked on the door of Bag End.

Bilbo was annoyed, he wondered who was wanting to pry into his business now. Even as a lonely hobbit that enjoyed his solitude, he had always liked guests. But since he had returned from his _adventure_ , he rarely received any visitors. Nobody was interested in having afternoon tea with Bilbo Baggins, the friend of dwarves; people just visited him to gossip. Since he returned he’d been treated as if he was a mad Took, all his Baggins respectability forgotten.

Expecting to see Hamfast Gamgee, Bilbo was left speechless when he found Mister Dwalin at his very own door.

“Dwalin, at your service,” the dwarf said with a wide smile.

Bilbo didn’t answer in return. He thought he was dreaming. He’d been missing his fellows from the Company for so long, but he wasn’t expecting to find them at his door, especially Dwalin, who had been loyal to Thorin until the end and he hadn’t even bidden him farewell at Erebor’s gates.

Dwalin was the same sturdy warrior: tattooed bald head, knuckledusters on his hands, and his two axes on his back. But he looked tired, which is expected after his long trip, as Bilbo noticed many faded bruises and new scars. Also, the light in his eyes was off. Bilbo sighed and was about to offer shelter to the dwarf when another one entered his home without being asked.

“Clear the door, it’s cold outside!” the dwarf said. He met the hobbit’s eyes and smiled fondly. “Burglar… you look like a proper hobbit!”

“I am a proper hobbit,” Bilbo said, still trying to recognize the dwarf. His voice was familiar, but his hair didn’t match Bilbo’s memory. “Nori?” The dwarf hugged him with familiarity. “Oh, Nori, your hair…” Bilbo knew of Nori’s love for his hair. He had seen many times how he took care of his long braids in an intricate and particular hairstyle. Now, the dwarf wore three simple braids, one from his forehead and the other two from his ears. The three braids barely reached his nape.

“Less weight for the road,” Nori joked. Bilbo didn’t laugh and Dwalin scowled. “Come on, brute, let’s plunder Bilbo’s pantry!” Nori said, before entering Bag End.

“Now, you!” Bilbo said harshly. But he couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“He’s been endlessly talking about your pantry since Bree,” Dwalin said. He stepped into the hobbit hole and clapped Bilbo’s back before going to look for Nori.

Bilbo was about to close the door when he saw someone bigger at his entrance.

“Gandalf!” Bilbo exclaimed with a wide smile. The wizard had become a true friend during their return to the Shire. “I should have known that you were…” he stopped when he saw Gandalf was holding another dwarf, judging by the height. The figure was concealed by a hooded cape and seemed to be in need of the wizard’s help.

“Would you be so gracious as to offer us your homely hole again?” Gandalf asked, reclaiming Bilbo’s attention. 

“Of course, my dear friend!” Bilbo answered kindly. But then the dwarf raised his head and the hobbit saw the silhouette of his regal face and his long black hair that was beginning to grey.

Bilbo couldn’t believe he was seeing Thorin Oakenshield again in the Shire. For a moment he had the foolish thought that his home was not fit for a king, but then Bilbo remembered the way he had been treated at the Mountain. He almost closed the door again, if it was not for the staff the wizard put through the door frame.

“Are you going to deny us shelter, Bilbo? Without a word?”asked Gandalf, looking down at the hobbit with his wise old eyes.

“I was banished from Erebor without a single word, if you remember…” Bilbo said angrily. Thorin flinched, but didn’t speak. He just met the hobbit’s eyes and remained silent, as Gandalf had told him.

“If you’re going to deny him refuge, you’d better start digging a hole in your splendid garden, because he will not see the morning if he has to sleep another night in the open,” Nori said, leaning casually against a wall, a cold sausage in his hand.

Bilbo took a second look at Thorin. He was glaring at Nori, but he was indeed pale and had huge bags under his eyes. Gandalf was still helping him stand, as if the dwarf couldn’t stand by himself.

“It’s early, you could have a room at the Green Dragon,” Bilbo said to Gandalf, unable to meet Thorin’s tired eyes.

“Thorin can’t be seen. That would be as dangerous as spending a night on the ground,” Dwalin said. He was next to Nori, holding a big mug of ale.

“Be-bother and confusticate these dwarves!” Bilbo yelled. “You can’t eat in the entrance hall! You two go to the kitchen!” Then the hobbit turned to Gandalf. “And you… come in before I change my mind.”

Thorin lightly bowed his head in appreciation. Gandalf helped him to move forward, but when the wizard bent down to avoid the door frame, the dwarf slipped from his arm and fell to the floor.

“Thorin!” cried Dwalin, shoving Bilbo on his way to the King.

“I’m fine,” Thorin said, his voice was muffled by the floor.

“No, you’re not,” Dwalin replied. “Where can he rest?” he asked the hobbit.

“Around here,” Bilbo pointed. He led them to his own room, the biggest and cosiest of the house.

Bilbo threw off the bed covers and Gandalf placed Thorin on the bed. The King closed his eyes to endure the pain while Dwalin began to undress him.

“They’ll need water and some clean bandages, if you have any,” Nori said from the door of the bedroom. It was not the first time he’d seen them tending to Thorin.

Bilbo went to pick up a bowl with water and some smooth fabric he kept for homemade bandages. When he returned he almost dropped the water at the view of Thorin’s wounds if not for Nori steadying the bowl.

“I can summon a healer,” Bilbo said, unable to avert his eyes from Thorin’s arm.

“No,” Thorin said straightaway. He seemed to be about to say something more, but he gasped when Dwalin began to undress the tender scar he had on his abdomen.

Gandalf just stared at Bilbo and tilted his head to the door, shaking his head. 

The hobbit didn’t move until Nori grabbed his arm and pulled him to the dining room.

“His arm…” Bilbo muttered in shock.

“Yes, a nasty slash. He almost lost his right arm. Gandalf still doesn’t know if he will move it ever again.”

“Were you ambushed on your way to Ered Luin?” Bilbo asked after a while. “Dwalin has some new scars and faded bruises, but they are almost healed and Thorin’s wounds on the other hand…”

“Thorin was going to Dale for a protocol meeting,” Nori said, for once seriously. “Dwalin was the Captain of his guard. The attack was vicious, no one else survived.”

“Orcs?” Bilbo asked. Nori shook his head and looked down, not really answering that question. “Wait a moment, Dale? And you came as far as the Shire? In his condition?” He stated, horrified.

“Óin healed him at Erebor, at least he did what he could. But Thorin couldn’t stay. The ambush was the third attempt to his life, and they were almost successful that time.”

“Who are _they_?” Bilbo asked crossly.

“We don’t know yet,” Nori answered, emphasising the last word.

“Of course we know!” Dwalin said as he entered the dining room. “They were those treacherous dwarves from the Iron Hills!”

“We don’t know yet,” Nori repeated, looking at Dwalin intensely. “But yes, we suspect the Lords of the Iron Hills, one of them in particular.”

“Dáin?” Bilbo inquired, furrowing his brow.

“Dáin is innocent,” Dwalin stated.

“Maybe,” Nori corrected. 

“Those bureaucratic rats…”

“That’s why I lost my hair!” Nori said jokingly. “Because Thorin will not be safe until we find the guilty party.”

Bilbo was about to ask about Nori’s hair, he had wondered about its shortness, when he saw Dwalin tenderly caressing the dwarf’s braid.

The hobbit knew about Dwalin’s and Nori’s relationship —he would have been blind to not see the way they looked at the other during the quest— but he had never seen them being affectionate in public. Even after the end of the Battle of the Five Armies, they had just hugged tightly but shortly before going to their families.

“I like your new hairstyle,” Dwalin said tenderly. “Every time I look at you it reminds me how brave you are.”

“You liked my long hair better though,” Nori teased his huge lover.

“It will grow. I can’t wait to…” Dwalin finished the sentence in a whisper to Nori’s ear.

“I’ll go to the kitchen. It’s time for afternoon tea,” Bilbo announced. He immediately left the room blushing.

“Make that a fine meal!” Nori shouted beneath Dwalin’s arms. “We haven’t eaten more than cram these days.”

Soon after Gandalf found Bilbo in the kitchen, preparing a lot of food as if the whole Company was waiting in his dining room.

“I missed your delectable meals, Bilbo,” Gandalf said, picking up a piece of cheese before the hobbit could slap his hand. “And I bet our friends will be eager to help you with it. We haven’t eaten much these last days on the road.”

“Well, they didn’t seem in a hurry to eat, or they would be helping me get dinner ready.”

“They need time for themselves,” Gandalf said nicely, with a benevolent smile. “The road has been hard, with no chance for tenderness.”

“I can see that,” the hobbit served the wizard a small glass of wine to go with the cheese he was sneaking. “How is _he_?” Bilbo asked then, nodding to his own room.

“Thorin is a strong dwarf,” Gandalf asked, not giving more information.

“His arm…” Bilbo muttered, remembering the deep open cut. “Nori said he almost lost it.”

“Not his worst wound, but yes, it was severe. He almost died after the ambush. Did Nori tell you what happened?” Bilbo nodded, his mouth closed in a tight line. Gandalf sat on a high stool that was still too short for him. “To Erebor, Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, is dead. He can’t return, Bilbo.” The hobbit opened his eyes wide and left the meat he was seasoning. He sat in front of the wizard, waiting for an explanation. “Balin sent a raven to inform me of the attack, nobody knew about the ambush yet. We decided the best way to save Thorin’s life was to fake his death and let the conspirators think they’d won.”

“If they won, is Dáin now King of Erebor?” Bilbo ventured.

“Fíli, son of Víli, is now the King under the Mountain,” Gandalf corrected with a fond smile.

Bilbo smiled too, until his face was suddenly serious again. “But then he is in danger now, as much as Thorin was before!”

“They will not dare to act so soon. But yes, he is not safe in Erebor at this moment. That’s why we need to find all the culprits as soon as we can.”

“We?” Bilbo asked with a pout. “I do not want more adventures, wizard,” he said, pointing a finger at Gandalf.

“Don’t worry my friend, Nori and Dwalin will be the ones helping me. Or I should say I will be helping them; they have the most dangerous role. They need to find the schemers by infiltrating their group.”

“They’ll never manage to go unnoticed! They are part of the Company! Dwalin is even Durin’s descendant!”

“Dáin is descendant of the line of Durin too. Believe me, they’ll trust them, especially Nori. He’ll tell you why.” Bilbo nodded, knowing it probably concerned Nori’s hair. “My part is easier, I just need to contact some of my friends. I wanted to visit Rivendell and talk to Elrond, but Thorin refused, even though Lord Elrond could have healed him better than I’m doing.”

“I could tell. Elves,” Bilbo said with a mocking but fond imitation of the voice of the king.

“No, this time his mistrust of the elves is not the problem,” Gandalf denied, smiling enigmatically to Bilbo. “Thorin doesn’t trust anybody anymore. Just the Company knows about his faked death, including his sister and myself. The only one in all Middle-earth he trusted enough to give him refuge was you, Bilbo Baggins,” he said looking at him fondly.

“Me? Even after taking the Arkenstone?” the hobbit asked in wonder. “Even after being banished from Erebor?” he added bitterly this time.

“Banished from Erebor? They’re talking about us, Dwalin,” Nori joked, entering the kitchen. “That’s a lot of food! Dwalin will have enough with that plate of meat,” he said, pointing at the biggest serving dish Bilbo had, which was overflowing with food.

“That’s for everybody, you imp! And keep your hands away from the sausages! I have had enough pillaging from Gandalf with the cheese!” Bilbo said, slapping Nori’s wandering hand. “And now tell me about that banishment.”

“I’m going to take the food to the dining room,” Dwalin said, not wanting to talk about that. “We set the table,” he stated.

Bilbo knitted his brow, looking at Nori’s hair. It was short, but now it was dishevelled too. The dwarves were doing more than setting his table. The hobbit thought about thoroughly cleaning it as soon as he could.

“Well, I’ll make tea for me,” Bilbo said. “We can talk while you eat.”

Dwalin growled, but Nori smiled, clapping his back and stealing a quick kiss.

“So… the banishment?” Bilbo asked after letting them eat a good share of the food.

“The banishment is as fake as Thorin’s death,” Dwalin said before giving a leg quarter another bite.

“We need their trust, that’s why they cut my hair. In public. Such a shame for a dwarf,” Nori commented, not as nonchalantly as he wanted. Dwalin put his big hand on his thigh, trying to eassure him, but this time Nori didn’t smile at him as he always used to do. “After that spectacle they will believe that we want revenge.”

“Fíli cut your hair?” Bilbo asked. On the quest he had got to know his fellow dwarves, and he knew they had much pride in their hair.

“Not Fíli, it was Dori,” Dwalin muttered with a cross face.

“I asked him to,” Nori said steadfastly. “I didn’t want my brothers to pay for my role in the scheme. That way they showed they despised me for what I did.”

“And supposedly… what did you do?” Bilbo whispered, remembering his own banishment.

“He did nothing,” Dwalin stated angrily. “Fíli proclaimed that he had failed his duty as Master Spy of Erebor, but there wasn’t a Master Spy working for Thorin. If there had been…”

“Well, now he has one. The best he could have,” Nori said jestingly. “And I have the best escort.”

Dwalin chuckled, but he kissed Nori all the same. Bilbo blushed and met Gandalf’s eyes. The wizard was smiling fondly as he was familiar with such displays of affection.

“So you are going to the Iron Hills?” Bilbo asked them, when they were again focused on the food.

“We’ll go to the Blue Mountains first,” Nori said. “Gandalf thinks there’s someone in Ered Luin involved with the conspiracy against Thorin,” he added with a note of disbelief in his voice.

“We don’t know how many Lords of the Iron Hills are involved in this, but they wouldn’t act without the support of someone inside Erebor,” Gandalf said.

“And how will Thorin be travelling without being discovered?” Bilbo asked.

“Thorin is not well enough to travel,” Dwalin answered. “He barely made it to the Shire.”

Bilbo stared at both dwarves and the wizard looking for an answer, but nobody met his eyes.

“Dear Bilbo, that broth of yours is excellent,” Gandalf said. “I think it would do some good for Thorin. Would you be so kind as to bring him some?”

“I thought he was resting,” Bilbo said, nervously.

“He needs the sustenance more than the rest,” Gandalf said, serving himself a lot of food on his plate.

Bilbo stood next to the table, but no one payed attention to him. He sighed and went to the kitchen to prepare a bowl of broth.

He knocked on the door before entering his own room.

Thorin was not sleeping, he was lying on the bed, leaning against one big cushion, which barely fit him. He met Bilbo’s eyes and nodded but didn’t say a word.

Not knowing what to say to the king, Bilbo just offered him the bowl, which Thorin took and kept against his chest. When the hobbit gave him the spoon, the dwarf almost spilled the broth trying to catch it with the same hand holding the bowl.

Bilbo understood then that Thorin couldn’t move his right arm. He couldn’t see the wound under the bandages, but the skin around was angry red.

Without saying a word, Bilbo took back the bowl and spoon fed the broth to Thorin. If the dwarf was annoyed by the situation he didn’t complain even though he blushed.

ART by [bbeckx](http://seadeepspaceontheside.tumblr.com/post/87661006595/hobbit-big-bang-artwork-for-refuge-by-sra-danvers)  


After a little miscalculation, Bilbo took a handkerchief and cleaned Thorin’s beard. The dwarf grabbed his wrist after Bilbo finished wiping the wet hairs.

“I want to apologise for banishing you. I had no right to….”

“You had every right, you are the King,” Bilbo said bitterly.

“I was the King, now it is Fíli’s time to rule. And I was apologising….”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Bilbo said stubbornly.

“Please, let me explain. What I did was wrong; I know now that you could have left us under siege and kept the Arkenstone for yourself. You could have avoided men and even elves with your ring of invisibility, as you did at Mirkwood. Yet you traded with them for our freedom. I was a fool for putting riches before my kin,” Thorin said, implying that all the Company was his kin, even Bilbo.

Both of them were silent for a moment. While Bilbo was feeding Thorin the rest of the broth, he thought about the King’s fake death. If the news of his demise had arrived in the Shire, what would Bilbo have felt? Sorrow? Remorse?

“Why come to the Shire?” Bilbo asked suddenly after the last spoonful. “It’s a long way to go without knowing for sure if you were going to be welcome.”

“I knew you would never have denied me shelter in my state of health,” Thorin said with a grim smile.

“I could have done it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Thorin insisted. “Because you’re better than me. That’s why I insisted the duty had to be yours and no one else’s.”

“Duty?” Bilbo asked, fearing Gandalf hadn’t told him the truth about more adventures.

“The wizard hasn’t explained it to you,” Thorin stated, annoyed. He sighed deeply when Bilbo shook his head. “I’m staying here while Nori and Dwalin are looking for the conspirators, at Bag End, with you. If you allow it. I can’t be seen, but I can’t move around anyway, not with my arm….”

Bilbo was relieved for he had feared a hard duty like Nori’s and Dwalin’s. But even after Thorin’s words about the Arkenstone, he felt unsettled in the presence of the king, as he had felt on the first stage of the quest when he still hadn’t proven himself.

“I won’t be a burden,” Thorin said harshly, mistaking Bilbo’s doubts for annoyance. “I took care of myself even after the battle when I was on the verge of death.”

“I wouldn’t know. If you recall, you didn’t even let me see you,” Bilbo answered harshly too.

But the hurt in Thorin’s face was so blatant that Bilbo took pity on him and cleaned his stained beard again.

Thorin, ashamed and irritated, took the handkerchief and tried to wash himself without success. Bilbo took it back and gently cleaned the dirty spots that were left.

“You’re right, I would never deny you shelter,” Bilbo said calmly, looking at the dwarf even when Thorin averted his gaze.

“You have given me more than that,” Thorin said, meeting his eyes this time. “This is your room,” he stated, looking around.

“It is,” Bilbo answered. “The best chamber for the King,” he said with a knowing smile. Thorin didn’t smile in return, so Bilbo added, “I have three spare bedrooms, so don’t worry. The only window in the bedroom faces the private garden, so you don’t have to fear being seen from the road. Also, this room has an attached parlour. I think you’ll need it if you’re going to spend all your time in Bag End.”

Bilbo nodded to his small sitting room, which had a settee and a bookshelf with his dearest books.

Thorin looked at Bilbo as he left with a pleased smile on his face.

After leaving the bowl in the kitchen and making some tea, Bilbo went to his dining room with a cup in his hand.

It was clean and deserted, as if dwarves and a wizard hadn’t been plundering his pantry.

Bilbo found Gandalf in the lounge, sitting on his double couch.

“Where are Nori and Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, having not seen anyone else in the room.

Gandalf jerked up, and Bilbo noticed the wizard had been sleeping with his eyes open. It was not the first time he had seen Gandalf doing that.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’ll let you rest,” Bilbo apologized.

“Don’t worry my friend, I was just dozing,” Gandalf said with a kind smile. Bilbo sat in his favourite sofa in front of the wizard. “Nori and Dwalin are resting. I dared to show them one of your guest rooms. They are only in need of one,” he said, smirking.

“I can imagine…” Bilbo said, smiling too. “They hadn’t expressed this relationship so openly before.”

“Not during the quest, they didn’t. Dwalin was troubled with his feelings at first, for he is a noble and Nori… Nori’s family are not as prestigious. You know, dwarves have a deep respect for social status. Also, Dwalin had a shady history with Nori back at Ered Luin. He was a guard and had to arrest Nori a good number of times. But then, on the quest, he got to know Nori through the dangers of the road. After the Battle of the Five Armies, Dwalin was sure Nori truly was the dwarf that he had come to know. When Nori offered his safety, his hair, and his honour to find Thorin’s conspirators, Dwalin declared openly his devotion to the former thief. Dwarves don’t give themselves easily.”

“You know so much about them, especially from Dwalin’s point of view” Bilbo said, doubting Dwalin would have told Gandalf about his feelings, not even in the calm nights in front of a campfire. 

“Balin is so talkative when he has eaten and drunk to his content. You know that.”

Bilbo nodded, he especially missed the dwarf and his interesting talks.

“So… my role is staying at home, taking care of Thorin,” Bilbo said grumpily.

“You’ll have to clean and tend his wounds, otherwise I assure you Thorin Oakenshield does not require any care taking.”

“Gandalf, he can’t even dress himself! You said yourself that he can’t move his arm or he could lose its mobility. And he can’t be seen! What will he do all day at Bag End?”

“Thorin’s a dwarf, he doesn’t need the sun and open air like you hobbits do. He’ll be well enough in your home; he needs the rest, especially of his soul. What’s the problem, my friend?” Gandalf asked, staring at him knowingly.

“He’s a king, what can I offer to him, after having lived in Erebor?”

“Shelter, safety, peace of mind. Also food, cheer and songs. He’s Thorin, Bilbo, the leader of the Company, the one who risked his own life for all of us.”

“Yes, I remember. And I also remember how he treated me at first. He despised me, Gandalf, me and the way of my people. And do you think it is a good idea that he stays in the Shire?”

“It was he who insisted on being here. The King under the Mountain feels safe at your side. That should be enough enlightenment for you.”

“But Gandalf… I’m the burglar! I’m the one who stole the Arkenstone! I was banished from Erebor!”

“Bilbo, the Heart of the Mountain is now in Thorin’s sepulchre protected under powerful spells, by his own orders. When I woke Thorin up from the death invocation I cast for his burial, Thorin requested me to seal his tomb with another spell, that way no dwarf could open it and discover that the King is alive. He also asked me to keep _Orcrist_ inside, for in his state he couldn’t handle a sword. But he made another request: that the Arkenstone should be guarded inside his tomb too. He knows well how that cursed stone has damaged his family, he didn’t want it near Fíli, and he didn’t think about keeping the Arkenstone himself.”

“Not close to me,” Bilbo said apprehensively.

“He wants it far from himself. He knows he wronged you, but even knowing you must be fairly aggrieved, he chose to ask you for shelter. Don’t let the past taint your days with Thorin, he’s feeling enough culpability on his own.”

Bilbo thought about Gandalf’s words for so long that the wizard dozed again, and his tea went cold.

Bilbo was so busy the next day. After second breakfast he went to the market with Nori and Dwalin to buy a lot of supplies that he wanted to store for his _guest_. Bilbo knew hobbits were a suspicious lot when it comes to food, and he didn’t want Thorin to be discovered if suddenly he bought enough provisions for two.

Gandalf went to the Green Dragon, gossiping about his business with two dwarves at the Shire, and stating that the three would leave the very next day.

The wizard told Bilbo that they had ridden two ponies and a horse, and nobody will remember having seen Thorin riding his horse under Gandalf’s cloak. Bilbo knew that was because the wizard had put that staff of his to work. After the quest the hobbit no longer thought Gandalf was a minor wizard.

After all the preparations for the trip, Dwalin and Nori disappeared to their room just before lunch. Bilbo went to the garden after hearing too many laughs and moans. Gandalf accompanied him with an amused smile. The both of them spoke and smoked on Bilbo’s bench, enjoying the peacefulness and the warm sunlight.

Thorin didn’t get out of bed until afternoon when he insisted on eating dinner with the rest of them. Bilbo made sure to cut Thorin’s meat in little pieces so the dwarf could manage to eat with one hand. Even so, it was obvious he was in pain. Just holding the weight of his damaged arm was causing him a great deal of discomfort.

Bilbo had been taught how to clean and dress Thorin’s wounds. The one on his stomach was pretty severe, but when Bilbo looked closely at the cut on his arm, he almost fainted. The slash that almost sliced through his arm was by the armpit; it was deep and the flesh was an angry red, as if it was infected.

After dinner the four settled on Bilbo’s lounge. Dwalin had put Thorin’s arm in a makeshift sling, having seen the suffering in his stoical face. The dwarf was now more comfortable sitting on the sofa next to the wizard.

Bilbo had offered his own couch, arguing that it was softer than the sofa, and he would be at ease. But Thorin didn’t accept, and Bilbo was feeling awkward being the most cosy because even though it was his own home, Thorin was visibly in pain.

Dwalin and Nori sat in front of the fireplace with Nori’s back against Dwalin’s broad chest. Nori was working on a piece of wood, getting sawdust all over the floor, to Bilbo's annoyance.

But after a while, Nori discarded the piece of wood that was taking a diamond shape. Bilbo wasn’t happier, because then Nori slid to the floor and leant his head against Dwalin’s legs. Their gazes were fixed on each other with such want that Bilbo felt like an intruder, even though he wasn’t the only one in the room with them. But Thorin didn’t seem embarrassed by the situation, for he was staring at them with a fond smile. By then Gandalf was dozing already, this time with his eyes closed and even snoring.

Bilbo tried to look around at any place other than the couple, but his eyes returned inevitably to the dwarves. Now Dwalin was caressing Nori’s face, setting aside the hairs that were escaping Nori’s hairstyle.

The next time Bilbo looked at them, Nori was sucking suggestively on Dwalin’s fingertips. Dwalin was blushing, holding his breath. Bilbo looked away and met Thorin’s eyes that were gazing at him intensely. The hobbit held his breath too.

  


ART by [asparklethatisblue](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/88760655028/my-art-for-the-hobbit-big-bang-fic-refuge-by)  


“Dwalin,” Thorin said harshly. Then he spoke in khuzdûl, a guttural and short sentence.  
Nori stood up quickly, smirking teasingly. He nodded to Bilbo and disappeared to his room. Dwalin stood in front of Thorin and answered him in khuzdûl too.

“Mister Baggins will help me, after all, he’ll have to do it from now on,” Thorin said, leaning his head to look at Bilbo past Dwalin.

Bilbo just nodded, still blushing. He tried not to stare at Dwalin while he went after Nori as he adjusted himself through his trousers.

“They made you uncomfortable,” Thorin said when they were alone with the sleeping wizard. “Why?” He asked, entailing that he had not been embarrassed in the slightest.

“Well… hobbits are usually more modest about showing affection in public,” Bilbo tried to explain.

“Dwarves too,” Thorin answered gravely. “Dwalin has granted you a great honour lowering his guard enough to kiss his beloved, for us dwarves only do that with close kin.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that, I’m… honoured. It’s just that… in the Shire a male hobbit can only… kiss ladies. In public, at least,” Bilbo said, blushing again.

“Your people are like men then,” Thorin stated indignantly. “They forbid relationships even when the affection between two men can be as legitimate as a man and woman.”

“Love is not forbidden in the Shire!” Bilbo exclaimed, feeling his people were being criticised. Gandalf stirred in his sleep, but otherwise he didn’t wake up. When he continued snoring, Bilbo said, “It’s just not done. But we have gathering places like that inn in Bree….” Bilbo halted, realizing what he had said. Suddenly he was pale, biting his upper lip. “So I’ve heard,” he added, beginning to blush anew. “Do you want to get to bed already? It’s been a long day, I’m tired myself,” he offered then, standing up and going already to _Thorin’s_ room.

Thorin remained sitting in the lounge for a while, thinking about the differences between dwarves and hobbits. And also about Bilbo’s words.

When he finally went to _Bilbo’s_ room, he found the hobbit dozing at his own bed.

The next day all was ready for Gandalf, Dwalin and Nori to leave the Shire.

Bilbo took Nori aside to the guest room the hobbit was using.

“I know you couldn’t bring many things in your fast escape, so I thought maybe you were in need of some gold,” Bilbo said. Then he opened a small chest that Nori knew well enough. “Gandalf and I dug out the Trolls’ treasure on our way back to the Shire. I know that it was Glóin’s idea and you and Bofur buried it, so… it’s yours if you want it.”

Nori stared at Bilbo for a long time before bursting into laughter.

“You, my friend, are a wonder. I have more gold than I could possibly spend in one life waiting for me at Erebor, but I’m not going to deny you that some more gold coins would make our travel more agreeable,” the dwarf said. He took some coins and hid them in different pockets that Bilbo couldn’t see. “I know you didn’t get your share,” he added then.

“I chose the Arkenstone,” Bilbo said bitterly. “And finally I got a little chest from Balin, which was more than I deserved.”

“You deserved more than that, and Thorin knows this. He wanted to bring you your share, but you know about his state; we had to go fast at risk of his life. But I’ll promise you something: Thorin will again be our King, and if you come to Erebor then I’ll give to you part of my own share. And I’m not a dwarf who easily gives his word.”

Bilbo didn’t know how to react to these solemn words, so he offered his hand. Nori chuckled and embraced him. Dwalin entered the room and stared at them with suspicious eyes. He grumbled that Gandalf was already waiting for them on his horse before quickly leaving. He didn’t even say good-bye to the hobbit.

The wizard and the dwarves rode together even though they’re going separate ways beyond Bree.

Thorin couldn’t go out to see them off, but he was looking from the window behind Bilbo’s curtains.

The hobbit, outside, was fearing the moment he was going to be alone with the king.


	3. Bath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Delicate people must watch the art of this chapter with caution, especially Thorin's happy trail ;-P It's also extremely addictive!!! I couldn't stop staring it ^^

The following days proved to be a challenge for Bilbo’s and Thorin’s cohabitation.

At the beginning Bilbo was self-conscious because Thorin was royalty. On the quest the hobbit ended up having a certain familiarity with the dwarf, especially after having saved his life. But now Bilbo had the Arkenstone event on his mind, and he couldn’t evade the fact that Thorin was a king. Even if Fíli was now wearing Erebor’s crown, Thorin was the rightful King Under the Mountain.

Furthermore, Bilbo was treating Thorin as if he was as breakable as his mother's Westfarthing pottery. In truth Thorin had been almost fatally wounded, but the proud dwarf abhorred Bilbo’s exceedingly careful behaviour towards him.

Finally they reached an understanding that lead to a peaceful coexistence. Bilbo continued taking care of the King by concealing his many tasks: cutting the food in smaller morsels in the kitchen, far from the King’s view, or just containing his tears every time he had to clean the terrible wounds.

Thorin, for his part, tried to come to terms with the fact that the wound on his arm was still infected, and the severe cut could permanently damage the movement of his arm. He contained his movements, reminding himself that if the wound in his abdomen opened, he would be in danger of death, especially since Gandalf was not with him.

Bilbo was trying to live his life without making any changes. Though he was not a popular hobbit now, so not many people wanted to talk to him. That worked well for Bilbo, who wanted to return home as soon as possible every time he went to the market, for he feared Thorin would be discovered.

One day, a week after Gandalf and the dwarves had left, Bilbo returned to Bag End to find Thorin was not waiting for him in the sitting room as usual. The hobbit waited for a while, but he got nervous when he didn’t find Thorin in his room or in the kitchen.

Then he heard muffled sounds coming from the bathroom. The door was open so Bilbo sighed deeply, relieved that Thorin wasn’t locked up as he had been some days ago; Bilbo had had to break the bolt to reach the dwarf, who had slipped when he stepped on some soap on the floor.

But the sounds now were as pitiful as they had been when Thorin was in pain, so Bilbo pushed the door open.

Thorin was… combing his hair. He had untied his braids and was trying to untangle his long hair, apparently without much success. His eyes were closed and his face was showing that he was clearly in pain, not because of the hair pulling but because the movement of his uninjured arm was causing a throbbing agony to his wounds.

“You stubborn dwarf!” Bilbo yelled, making Thorin jump at his words. “You couldn’t have waited for me?”

“You’re doing enough, Master Baggins,” Thorin said, ashamed once again for showing weakness.

“Nonsense! Come here, I’ll do it for you. And I’m telling you again, I’m not calling you Thorin if you don’t grant me the same courtesy!” The hobbit stated, taking his comb to the dining room. “Here, sit at the table while I untangle your hair.”

Thorin obeyed reluctantly, even though his body was thankful for some rest. He had been combing his hair since the hobbit had left, not wanting his help. In all that time he had barely accomplished to comb two thin locks of hair after untying his braids.

Bilbo worked on the dwarf’s hair for a while before giving up. He was focused on not causing any pain, so he was aware of every one of Thorin’s flinches. And he had only combed out one lock…

The main problem was that Thorin’s hair was dirty and Bilbo could bet that hadn’t been properly brushed since the attack that almost cost his life. But he didn’t want to offend the dwarf, knowing well how Thorin took care of his hair during the quest. If the dwarf wasn’t taking care of his personal hygiene it was because he was in a more severe state than he wanted to admit.

But Bilbo was a wise hobbit, especially concerning domestic chores.

“Thorin, these knots are so tangled that I can’t comb your hair without pulling it painfully.”

“I’m a dwarf, I can stand pain,” Thorin said harshly.

“I know, I know. Nonetheless, I have a conditioner: Adamanta’s special concoction. She was my grandmother; she knew how to blend flowers and plants.”

“A hair conditioner made of flowers,” Thorin stated, clear distaste in his face.

“It doesn’t smell. Not much. But it’s wonderfully effective with knots. I was quite grateful for my grandma when I was a child and I returned home with my curly hair full of leaves and twigs. I was good at climbing trees, if you must know,” Bilbo said with a touch of humour.

Thorin finally smiled. But then he was stern again.

“Gandalf warned me not to wet my wounds.”

“Let me think,” Bilbo replied, having found at last the reason for Thorin’s reluctance to wash himself.

The hobbit took a cushion and pointed Thorin out to the bathroom. Once there he put the cushion on the floor and indicated for him to sit on it. While the dwarf struggled to sit, Bilbo took a towel and made a roll with it, which he put on the edge of the bathtub.

“Now lean your back on the tub… that’s it, with your neck on the edge. Rest your nape on the towel,” Bilbo instructed him.

When Thorin was as comfortable as he was going to be, Bilbo left him to bring some hot water from the kitchen. After bringing two more vessels, the hobbit found Thorin with his eyes closed, this time more relaxed than he had found him the first time.

Without saying a word, Bilbo began working. He took a brush and a bigger comb he had in the bathroom cabinet and knelt on the other side of the tub. Then Bilbo poured some lukewarm water over his hair before using the soap until the dwarf’s mane was covered with lather.

Bilbo massaged Thorin’s scalp with his fingertips, humming an old tune from the Shire nonchalantly .

Thorin opened his eyes and smiled at the hobbit upside-down. Bilbo smiled at him in return.

“Are you in pain?” Bilbo asked. It was not the first time he had asked that question, but this time Thorin didn’t seemed to mind so much, because he didn’t lose his pleased smile.

Thorin shook his head, but that stirred his injured arm and he flinched.

“Don’t move, I’ll finish soon. I’m going to rinse your hair and then I’ll use the conditioner,” Bilbo explained.

“Your grandma’s concoction,” Thorin said playfully.

Bilbo smiled again. After all those days living together, it was the first time he was seeing the dwarf genuinely relaxed.

“Don’t be mean, you’re lucky I’m wasting it on you, dwarf!” Bilbo joked, pleased when Thorin had a hearty laugh.

Bilbo noticed how dirty Thorin’s hair had been when he poured more water on his hair. The water that was pooling in the tub was almost brown. Bilbo shivered when he thought he had seen some red in it too. Thorin had barely survived the Battle of the Five Armies, but the dwarves’ attack seemed to have been as fierce as the battle.

When the mane was all coated with the conditioner, Bilbo began combing the hair with a comb which had its teeth quite separated and after a while Bilbo took the brush. This time it was easier to disentangle the long hair. He worked every knot, trying to keep the pull at the minimum.

After a while Bilbo’s back began to ache, so he decided to remove the plug in the tub and stepped in with his bare feet. Thorin looked at him and smiled, but he didn’t say a word. Bilbo thought the dwarf had a beautiful smile, even when it was upside-down. He hadn’t seen Thorin smile so much, not on the quest, nor in all those days at his home.

In his new position it was easier reach the hair. Bilbo had long locks over his thighs, for he had knelt in the tub. His breeches were soaked and his shirt was splattered, but the hobbit continued working patiently until he could easily comb the entire long mane.

Then Bilbo left the comb aside and ran his little fingers through Thorin’s hair. The feeling of those threads of silk was mesmerizing to him. Bilbo was fascinated with the colour too, noticing how there was more white hairs on his temples than between the rest of his gorgeous black hair. After a while Bilbo slowed his wandering fingers and remained still, just staring at all that hair as if he hadn’t really seen it before.

Thorin opened his eyes and looked at the hobbit, who quickly reacted and stood, his face all blushed. He took one of the vessels and rinsed the now well-brushed hair.

Watching how the muddy water drained out, Bilbo thought that maybe being clean was what had made the difference with Thorin’s mood. And he wanted to do something more to maintain the agreeable atmosphere.

After rinse the hair a second time, Bilbo asked; “Do you also want to bathe? I know you can’t risk wetting your wounds, but I could help you with a wet cloth,” he offered.

“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Thorin answered grumpily.

Bilbo nodded and went out of the tub, stepping on a towel. While he was drying his feet, Thorin stood up as his wet hair dampened the back of his clothes.

“Although it would be nice to be clean for a change,” Thorin said then, looking remorseful.

“You’re drenching my floor!” Bilbo scolded. He put the cloth he had been using for his feet on the wet floor. “Step on the towel. I don’t know why you insist on wearing boots when you don’t go outside,” Bilbo said, kneeling on the towel and helping the dwarf out of his boots and socks.

“Because I’m not a hobbit,” Thorin answered derisively.

“You’re in the Shire now, you might as well behave like a hobbit. Now get into the tub,” he pointed.

“Would you behave like a dwarf if you were in Erebor?” Thorin asked, stepping into the tub.

“Maybe… if you could order shoes large enough for me,” Bilbo joked, sharing a laugh with Thorin. He then stood and proceeded to undo the buttons of the dwarf’s shirt, as he was accustomed to do every day. “I’m going to warm up more water,” he said before taking off any more garments.

When Bilbo returned with a larger container, he found Thorin standing in the tub completely naked, his soaked breeches were discarded on the floor. The hobbit blushed, trying not to stare. It was the first time he was seeing Thorin in the nude, even though he helped disrobe the dwarf every day as he cleaned the wound on his stomach. But the dwarf always wore his underwear.

Without saying a word Bilbo put the water aside and took a sponge. After pouring some soap in it he proceeded to wash the dwarf. He took special care with Thorin’s chest, especially near his wound. He went around the tub and lathered up the impressive back after pulling aside his long hair. Being away from Thorin’s intense stare, he risked taking a look at his rear. Bilbo sighed: it was as impressive as the top was. He squeezed the sponge and let the foam slide down his crack. Bilbo shivered. He didn’t dare to touch Thorin’s buttocks, so he went straight to the dwarf’s legs. The body hair there was dark and thick, and Bilbo enjoyed soaping them.

  
  
ART by the wonderful [jali-jali](http://jali-jali.tumblr.com/post/87407670922/i-participated-in-this-hobbit-big-bang-thing)  


Bilbo continued washing his legs while he was going around the tub again. He lathered up until he reached Thorin groin, then he suddenly stopped and stared at it. Thorin’s cock was proportional to his body, and Bilbo hadn’t seen one bigger in all his life. It looked plump and heavy against the dwarf’s thigh.

“Do you want the sponge?” Bilbo simply said, supposing Thorin would prefer cleaning his most private parts himself.

Bilbo wanted to touch Thorin’s cock so badly, but he was not a fool, he knew the dwarf would never bed him, and by no means let him touch it. He had even envied Nori, bedding such a huge dwarf. But he had no hopes, not that he had had any with Dwalin to begin with. With Thorin he had fantasies, but no hopes at all.

Thorin didn’t answer, he just took the sponge and washed his inner thigh. Bilbo had to avert his gaze when the dwarf’s cock bounced deliciously. He went to the other side of the tub again and wet a new cloth to rinse Thorin’s back.

Bilbo was feeling Thorin’s soreness in the stiff movements of his arm, but he didn’t dare to help him. The hobbit had always cleaned the dwarf’s wounds with a clinical perspective, but Thorin’s naked body was proving to be too much of a temptation for his restraint.

Focused in the cleaning, Bilbo thought that it was time to visit the inn in Bree, which he hadn’t visited since he had gone on his _adventure_.

While the wet cloth was taking the foam away, Bilbo noticed all the scarring and bruises that still covered Thorin’s skin. Taking care not to splash, Bilbo poured the still warm water over his legs, first on his back then on his front.

Bilbo took the sponge from Thorin’s hands and blushed, for he couldn’t help but take a short look at that gorgeous member that was now resting heavier against the dwarf’s thigh. Thorin was not hard, but his cock was definitely swollen.

Making use of the fact that he needed to rinse the cloth again, Bilbo bent over the receptacle—which was almost empty— and hid his face in it. When he stood again, he would say that Thorin’s cock was even more engorged.

The careful washing of Thorin’s chest, where he has his most serious wounds, relaxed Bilbo enough to finish his work and meet Thorin’s eyes without shame.

“There, now you’ll be more comfortable. I’ll change your sheets later,” Bilbo said, not lowering his eyes.

“As I said to you, I should move to one of the guest rooms,” Thorin insisted.

“There’s no need, your wounds are still tender. Mmm… you can’t put these clothes on now,” Bilbo said, looking at the wet pile on the floor. They had made such a mess, the hobbit was going to have a busy afternoon cleaning . “And I still haven’t washed your spare clothes. Let me think… wait a moment!” Bilbo went to the door, but before reaching it he returned and took a clean towel from the cabinet. “Bend down,” he told Thorin, who obeyed with difficulty. Bilbo then placed the towel on top of his shoulders, putting aside his wet hair. “Now you can get out of the tub, but step on the cloth!” He directed before going to his own room, now Thorin’s.

He returned some time later with some clothes in his hands.

“You can’t expect me to be able to wear your garments,” Thorin said.

“Of course not, I inherited this from my great-great-great-great Uncle Bullroarer Took,” Bilbo replied sulkily. “The fabric is old, but nonetheless in good condition.”

“That’s a hobbit outfit,” Thorin muttered. He didn’t want to offend his host, but he didn’t want to look ridiculous either.

“You must know Bullroarer Took was so large he could ride a real horse. At least try them on, if you don’t like it you can always stay in bed all day while your clothes dry,” Bilbo said, giving the garments to Thorin before going out of the bathroom.

When Thorin followed him he was wearing the white shirt and brown breeches. He was even using the braces Bilbo had loaned him, knowing the clothes would be big on Thorin.

“You’re gorgeous,” Bilbo said, staring at the dwarf. He was even barefoot, his calves showing under the short breeches. “I mean… you look like a hobbit,” Bilbo added, blushing and looking down.

Thorin smiled pleasantly. Then he went directly to the lounge, for he was tired after moving more than he had moved all these past days.

When Thorin walked past Bilbo he patted his shoulder in recognition.


	4. Someone at Bag End's door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter thanks to my awesome beta ^^

Thorin changed his clothes as soon as they were dry, much to Bilbo’s dismay. But he didn’t wear his boots from that day on, and the hobbit appreciated it.

In the beginning Bilbo used to laugh at Thorin’s look: long trousers without wearing any boots. After a while, Bilbo became familiar with his hairless small feet stepping around Bag End and Thorin’s appearance became almost homey to him.

Their relationship was flowing more pleasantly, the both of them really getting to know each other.

Bilbo didn’t wander much around the Shire, the few times he was outside was when he went to the market, even leaving his garden in the care of Hamfast. Bilbo’s main duty was, as was asked of him, taking care of the king. The hobbit tried to make the dwarf’s seclusion bearable: cooking dwarven dishes for Thorin that Bombur had taught him; helping him maintain his dignity with regular baths; placing the rug of his lounge under _Thorin’s_ sofa, so his delicate feet wouldn’t be cold; even looking for books that pleased the king, a hard duty he finally fulfilled when he offered him a history book that narrated the events of the battle of _Nírnaeth Arnoediad_ which the dwarves had participated in.

One night, Bilbo was reading on his sofa as usual when he fixed his gaze on the dwarf in front of him. Thorin was reading too, until he lifted his sight and met the hobbit’s eyes, raising an eyebrow. They stared each other for a while without saying a word.

“Tell me about Erebor,” Bilbo said finally, feeling he was at peace enough to talk about the issue.

“What do you want to know?” Thorin asked, eagerly putting his book aside. He had wanted to explain to Bilbo a lot of things about the Lonely Mountain for some time, but had noticed how tense the hobbit was at the simple mention of Erebor.

“I want to know about the Company. Nori told me about his brothers, and Dwalin about his brother, and Fíli and Kíli… but I don’t know how Bofur and his family are coping with their new home. I suppose Óin and Glóin are well enough, but Bofur’s family descended from the dwarves of Moria.”

“You know a lot of Bofur’s past. He is very dear to you,” Thorin said, staring at the hobbit as if he wanted to read his mind like the book he had on his lap.

“He was a good friend, the first I had amongst the Company. The first who looked for me after….” Bilbo stopped, his lips tightly closed. He had known it was a delicate matter….

“He is well enough,” Thorin said, knowing that Bofur was ever the first to ask for the hobbit. Of course the toy maker would have looked for Bilbo after the Battle of the Five Armies. “Bofur lives with his cousin, near his brother’s home. Bombur’s family is already with him, his wife and sons arrived on my sister’s caravan. All of them have important duties in the royal council, their status is now superior to some noble families. I hold them in high esteem, because when I called them, they answered. There were no principal lords who followed me in my quest.”

Bilbo smiled, pleased with Thorin’s words. This was not the eager King he had seen at the Mountain.

“Tell me about Erebor now,” Bilbo asked then.

Thorin smiled and talked about his home. He told Bilbo about the reconstruction of the old quarters and the new residences. He told him about the thrilled faces of his people when they finally arrived from Ered Luin. He talked about the deep mines that were operating again, but he didn’t ever mention gold. Bilbo was pleased.

The books were all but forgotten that night.

As the days went by, the hobbits remained unaware that one dwarf was residing at the Shire.

Bilbo received some visitors, but nobody wanted to be seen with Bilbo Baggins now, especially since he was being particularly reclusive. So the visitors at Bag End were scarce, and in those times Thorin retired to his room, listening from his bed how the hobbit talked about folksy things.

The hobbit and dwarf were relaxed in their peaceful life and became much too lenient. Because one day, there was no hobbit at Bilbo’s door but three dwarves.

Thorin was awfully shaken, asking Bilbo for Sting, even when he still couldn’t balance his body enough to get hold of a sword.

“Please Thorin, see reason. One of those dwarves is as huge as Dwalin, and the other two aren’t particularly weak. Listen to me, we have no time to waste, use my ring,” Bilbo said, offering the golden ring to the dwarf. “Whatever happens, you must remain invisible. Even if they…”

“I’ll do no such thing! You offered me shelter. I can’t leave you defenceless against my own enemies. I can fight these three dwarves, even with one arm. I don’t know them, but I know they come from the Blue Mountains, and Gandalf thinks the schemers could be from Ered Luin.”

“Sssh.… Use the ring. I don’t doubt you can fight, but… do you remember Azog? You were in good shape then. It’s not just your arm, the wound on your stomach is closing so well now, don’t risk your condition, please. And think about Fíli, he’ll be in danger if you reveal your fake death. Put the ring on, please,” Bilbo begged anxiously.

Thorin obeyed, he took the ring which enlarged before his eyes. The magic didn’t surprise the dwarf, who had seen how his grandfather’s ring had also changed its size. When he disappeared he was furrowing his brow at Bilbo, still not at ease with the hobbit’s plan.

“Remember, you still don’t know about my demise,” Thorin whispered, startling Bilbo, who was observing from his own point of view the weirdness of the invisibility. “You… you were banished. You have no sympathy for dwarves now.”

Bilbo sighed and nodded. He finally opened the door and stared at the dwarf on the front step, who bowed to him as if he was the Thain himself.

“Munûn, at your service,” the dwarf said. Then he straightened up and added, “These are my sons Monûn and Minûn.” As he introduced them, the dwarves bowed too.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo replied, visibly suspicious. He was feeling the invisible presence at his back, so close to him that he could feel the warmth of Thorin’s body.

“Mister Baggins, Lady Dís sent us from Ered Luin with a present for you, to show her gratitude.”

Bilbo felt Thorin’s hand on his back, and he knew what he was thinking: his sister was in Erebor, not the Blue Mountains. When the dwarf who had talked moved aside, Bilbo feared a trap, for in front of Bag End was a coffer large enough to contain his small body.

“I don’t know Lady Dís,” Bilbo said, fear distinctive in his tone of voice. Thorin put his hand against his back again, and the hobbit forced himself to add, “The Durins have no gratitude, not for a hobbit. Not even for one who had served them well.”

Munûn tensed at these words, but conceded by bowing his head.

“Lady Dís sent us a letter telling us we had to mend her brother’s mistreatment of you. She sent the trunk on behalf of King Fíli, we haven’t even opened it. Please, accept it in Erebor’s name. Now the Blue Mountains know your role on the retaking of our ancient home: the Burglar in the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. The hobbit,” he said before bowing again. His sons bowed too.

Bilbo was speechless, until Thorin tapped his shoulder. What had he missed?

“King Fíli?” He said, showing confusion. Thorin pulled at his clothes and Bilbo knew he finally had approved of the visitors. The hobbit wasn’t so sure, especially looking at that huge coffer. But Thorin was the King, so Bilbo sighed and hoped the dwarf wasn’t wrong. “Please, come in my home. It’s not the first time dwarves have visited it.”

Munûn entered, his sons following him with the trunk. They placed it in the dining room where Bilbo, always the proper host, served three mugs of ale and some pastries he had made especially for Thorin. He served himself a calming brew of tea.

“King Thorin died last month,” Munûn said, breaking the tense silence.

Bilbo tried to show sadness, but it was hard knowing Thorin was as healthy as he could be, standing invisible at his back. How would have Bilbo mourned the king who had banished him? The hobbit knew he would mourn Thorin no matter their latest words, so he looked down.

When he raised his gaze, his eyes were red and his face was wet with tears. It was easy once he had thought about Thorin, the Thorin he had become to know these weeks together dying.

“How…?” Bilbo muttered, his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry, these events are not mine to share. There’s a letter from Lady Dís in the trunk, her words are better than mine could ever be. Thanks for your hospitality, but now we need to continue our journey to Erebor. Our caravan is waiting for us at Bree.”

Bilbo nodded, but then he felt Thorin’s hand again on his back, grabbing his shirt frantically.

“Please, wait a moment. I’ll make a little refreshment for the road. I know how hard the way to Erebor is, after all.”

Bilbo went to the kitchen and while he was picking up some food, Thorin whispered instructions to him.

“You’re as kind as our Lady told us, Mister Baggins,” Munûn said when Bilbo returned with a small bag.

“Nonsense, it’s the least I could do for Lady Dís’s messengers. If I could ask you for a thing…” Bilbo said shyly.

“Of course, Master hobbit, whatever we could give you,” the younger dwarf, Minûn, said; smitten with the small creature that had served them so well, even though he had been mistreated by dwarves in the past.

“I have a friend at Erebor, he was one of the thirteen. Could you deliver a letter to him in my name? I want him to know that he’s still dear to me…”

“Of course, Master hobbit,” Minûn said. “I myself will hand over the letter to him.”

“Thank you very much, Master dwarf,” Bilbo said.

He went to his room and wrote the words Thorin dictated him: an innocuous message that only one of the company, who was informed of Gandalf’s plan, would really understand.

“My friend is Bofur of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo said to the young dwarf, once he had sealed the letter. “You’ll know him for his funny hat, he never takes it off.”

The dwarves laughed, having heard about that dwarf in particular.

Bilbo finally sighed deeply, relieved after bidding farewell to the three dwarves. He leaned his back against the door and waited for Thorin to be visible in front of him.

What he wasn’t expecting was that the first thing Thorin did after taking off the ring was to hug him, as he had done on top of the Carrock a long time ago, just with only one arm this time.

After having seen the way Thorin looked at him, being between his arms had a new meaning that left Bilbo trembling.

“Thanks,” Thorin said when he raised up.

“I wasn’t in any danger, after all,” Bilbo said nonchalantly.

“But you could have been. You put yourself between a threat and me. Again. I don’t forget what you did for me, Master hobbit,” Thorin repeated, mocking Minûn’s crush on Bilbo.

“What do you think is in the coffer?” Bilbo asked, trying to change the subject. “Do you think your sister was really the one who sent it?”

Thorin smiled.

“Let’s find out.”

There was no lock to open, so when Thorin found the runes and pushed them in the correct sequence for it to open, it was clear no foe had sent the trunk.

Thorin truly beamed when he saw the contents in the coffer.

“Clothes, Dís sent me clothes!” The dwarf shouted, delighted. “And books! Written in khuzdûl!”

“You don’t need to seem so cheerful, as if my books aren’t good enough for you,” Bilbo said with a pout. But even when Thorin ignored him, Bilbo couldn’t get angry, not when he was seeing the dwarf as happy as he had been when they had finally found Erebor’s hidden door.

“Here’s the letter,” Thorin stated when he found it.

“You can read it, I’m sure she wrote it for you,” Bilbo said, seeing as all the things in the coffer were for Thorin.

“’ _Dear Bilbo,_ ’” Thorin began to read. “You see? She wouldn’t call me that. This is clearly for you.

“’ _I should have written you the moment I knew about your deeds on the quest, but as you should know by now, Erebor’s not the peaceful place we dreamed of for our people. Greed and schemes finally claimed the life of my brother. Please, remember him as the dwarf who travelled and fought at your side, not as the King who wronged you._ ’”

Thorin paused for a moment and breathed deeply, not raising his eyes from the parchment.

“’ _Now that I know that I owe you not only my brother’s life, but also my children’s, I hope one day I could thank you in person for all the good acts you did for Durin’s folk. Until that day, please accept this small chest as reward. The first of many I’ll be sending. You have my best wishes and the love of my family and the rest of Thorin’s Company.’_ As you see, the letter was really for you,” Thorin said, handing the letter to Bilbo. “Dís’s words are true, she really wanted to send you a letter, but… I was not prepared to face the shame of my past behaviour. I want you to know that I also praise the deeds you did on the quest.”

“Please, Thorin, we have talked about this, it’s in the past,” Bilbo found the smaller chest mentioned in the letter and opened it. He gawked at the amount of gold and jewels. “I don’t need so many riches! Balin gave me my share when I left Erebor.”

“That little chest was nothing, even though this one will only pay my expenses,” Thorin said, turning his attention once again to the fillings of the trunk.

Bilbo stared at him for a while, noticing how excited Thorin was with the things his family had sent to him. Until that moment Bilbo wasn’t aware of how much the dwarf was missing his kin and his home.

“They have sent you spare boots,” Bilbo said, pointing to a corner of the trunk.

“I think I’ll continue without. I feel comfortable enough,” Thorin said, winking at the hobbit.


	5. Foot Rub

Thorin really was comfortable at Bag End, barefoot or not.

The thing was that sometimes his feet were cold, and other times stung terribly.

“What are you doing?” Bilbo asked one night, watching how Thorin was frantically rubbing his feet against the rug.

“The soles of my feet are killing me. They sting madly,” Thorin hissed.

“That’s the blood flow. Why don’t you scratch it then?” Bilbo asked.

“I don’t have hobbit feet!” Thorin exclaimed. “That would be unbearable!”

“You have such delicate feet,” Bilbo said, smiling.

“My feet are not delicate!” Thorin yelled in outrage, still scrubbing his feet against the rug.

“Of course not,” Bilbo said in a condescending way.

The hobbit stood and left the lounge with book in hand, returning soon after without the book but instead with a small bottle. He sat on the loveseat near Thorin. He took a cushion and put it on his lap before spreading out a handkerchief on top of it.

“There, place your tough feet here,” Bilbo said, tapping the cushion.

“What are you going to do?” Thorin asked, not moving a toe.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to scratch the sole of your feet,” Bilbo joked.

When Thorin finally laid on the sofa and placed his feet on the cushion, he flinched and put his hand on his abdomen.

“Are you alright?” Bilbo asked worriedly.

“It was just a stabbing pain, the skin around the cut is still tender,” Thorin explained, knowing the concern Bilbo had when taking care of his wounds.

Bilbo opened the small bottle and poured some liquid into his hands.

“What’s that?”

“That’s just some oil to moisturise your skin. Your soles are hardening from the direct friction with the floor. Now would Your Highness be so kind and remain quiet?” Bilbo mocked the dwarf. Thorin grunted.

“Your grandmother’s special concoction?” Thorin asked.

“Relax,” Bilbo said, ignoring the teasing question.

After rubbing the oil in his hands, Bilbo smeared it on Thorin’s feet. The hobbit wondered at their differences when he stroked the dwarf’s hairless instep. The skin was surprisingly smooth there, nothing like Bilbo’s leathery skin. He poured more oil on Thorin’s toes, especially on his big toe, which had a corn from the continuous use of his boots. Bilbo had never had one, but it seemed so painful. He smeared oil on every toe with care, even on the area between toes.

When Bilbo moved to his soles, Thorin flinched.

“Is this painful?” Bilbo asked, knowing his hardened soles were as different as the rest of their feet were.

“No. Just tickles,” Thorin said.

“Delicate,” Bilbo muttered.

Thorin kicked Bilbo’s hand, and the hobbit slapped his foot.

After the first touch, Bilbo’s strokes on the soles of Thorin’s feet were more bearable, even when the hobbit used his knuckles to massage them more deeply.

After a while, not even Bilbo’s humming prevented Thorin from dozing off.

The hobbit smiled when he heard the first snore. Thorin’s face was so peaceful that Bilbo stared at him for a long time without stopping the work of his fingers for a moment.

The following night Thorin brazenly rubbed his feet against the rug until Bilbo took pity on him and went for the oil, smiling all the way.

After that day, Bilbo used his favourite sofa no more; he was just as comfortable sharing Thorin’s.

*

At the beginning it had been torture for Bilbo to clean Thorin’s wounds. He didn’t want to cause him pain, but he feared infection if he wasn’t thorough enough.

When the wounds began to heal, Bilbo’s torture was of another kind.

After the first time he had seen the dwarf in the nude, it was impossible for the hobbit to ignore his attraction to the king, especially when he was cleaning his wounds. Even though he saw him naked again every time he helped him bathe, those times he managed to remain calm enough to hide his lust. Or that was what Bilbo thought.

However, the proximity required for cleaning his wounds was a terrible torture for Bilbo, who couldn’t avert his eyes from that bulky hairy chest or the delicious navel that used to get him so distracted that his hand trembled while he was dressing his abdominal wound.

Bilbo needed to visit Bree, and do it soon.

“Thorin, I require some things that can only be bought at Bree,” Bilbo said one day. The dwarf nodded, staring at the hobbit for a while. “Well, if you don’t mind being on your own for a day… or maybe two. I would cook food and leave your wounds dressed with clean bandages….”

“Bilbo, I’ll be fine. When are you going?”

“I’ll wait until the next rain. Hobbits don’t visit on rainy days, that way we don’t risk undesirable eyes on Bag End.…”


	6. Featuring Lobelia

The sun lit up the Shire for another week, and Bag End was busy enough: Munûn and his sons weren’t the last dwarves to visit the Shire on their way to Erebor.

Dís’ words about Bilbo’s part on the quest spread across the Blue Mountains and so many of them wanted to thank the small hobbit for his part in the reclamation of their homeland.

All of them brought gifts: the representatives from poor caravans less so than the rich ones, but Bilbo valued them more. He always prepared a bigger bag full of food for the poorer dwarves.

Thorin, who was always invisible at Bilbo’s back, approved of the hobbit’s kindness towards his people. There was a time the king had even worked for them, so he knew about the kind of travel that awaited the poorest dwarves of Ered Luin.

“And I was hoping for a nice, quiet morning in the garden,” Bilbo said one day when someone knocked on the door. He was having breakfast with Thorin at the kitchen table.

“You could send them away…” Thorin proposed, not wanting Bilbo to be more troubled than he already was taking care of him.

“No, I’m honoured by their reverence,” Bilbo said solemnly. “You can finish your breakfast, just put the ring on,” he said, lending it to the dwarf.

“Won’t they see food disappearing?” Thorin asked with a smile.

“I’m taking them to the dining room, you cheeky dwarf,” Bilbo scorned.

But when Bilbo opened the door, it was no dwarf there. Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stood at his door with a platter in her hand and her perpetual expression of disdain on.

“Good morning, Lobelia. What brings you to Bag End?” Bilbo asked patiently.

“The kindness of my heart, dear cousin,” she replied. Bilbo held his smirk, knowing the hobbit just visited out of greed and nosiness. “I made a pie for you. You don’t go around much, lately, and that’s no sane behaviour for a hobbit. You must visit your friends and family.”

Bilbo almost grunted. If he wanted to see his beloved family, he would go see his grandfather or his cousin Drogo.

“You’re too kind, Lobelia. Thank you very much,” Bilbo said, taking the pie before the hobbit made a move to enter his home, as Bilbo knew it was her prime purpose.

“You should let me in at least!” Lobelia yelled when Bilbo began to close the door. “Have the minimum of courtesy, Bilbo Baggins!”

“As a courtesy, I’ll not ask for all the things that are still missing from Bag End,” Bilbo whispered, glaring at Lobelia before slamming the door.

Bilbo breathed deeply against his door before going to the kitchen to meet Thorin. He wasn’t expecting the dwarf to appear in front of him.

“She was the one who auctioned off your things?” Thorin roared.

“Shhh… it’s likely she’s still at the door,” Bilbo muttered. He took two steps to the dwarf. “Yes, she’s Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the wife of my cousin Otho…” Bilbo stopped when he heard the door of Bag End opening behind his back. When he turned around, he saw Lobelia staring at Thorin with her eyes wide open.

“You - Bilbo Baggins!” Lobelia screamed. “I knew you were up to no good! You depraved hobbit!”

“Please, Lobelia let me explain…” Bilbo said, trying to calm the irate hobbit before she attracted the attention of all of Hobbiton.

“I knew it! All those visits to Bree… All those years without courting any lady…” Lobelia continued yelling. “But of course you didn’t go on an adventure! You were fornicating around with dwarves! And who knows with what other creatures!”

“Stop!” Thorin suddenly shouted. “He’s the bravest hobbit in Hobbiton, he’s the bravest of all the Shire! He faced Trolls, Orcs, Goblins, and even a Dragon, so I won’t tolerate any words against him.”

“And who are you to speak to me with such harsh words?” Lobelia demanded.

“I’m…”

“He’s my friend Bofur, and he’s hiding in Bag End,” Bilbo said before Thorin could uncover his identity. “Please, cousin, let me explain,” he requested meekly. “I’m just helping a friend. A very rich friend, who knows how to repay a favour…” Bilbo suggested, knowing that only Lobelia’s greed would change her attitude.

Finally Lobelia entered Bag End and Bilbo could close the door, relieved when he saw nobody near his smial.

Bilbo brought Lobelia’s pie to his dining room, where he served tea and some ale for Thorin, who Bilbo thought was in need of it.

The dwarf didn’t understand how the hobbits had gone from screaming to quietly sharing second breakfast, but even though Bilbo was praising his cousin’s pie, Thorin wasn’t going to eat a single crumb of it.

While they were eating, Bilbo invented a consistent story about why _Bofur_ was staying at Bag End. Lobelia seemed to believe the lie, but she was still glaring at Thorin.

“Bofur, could you bring us more tea, please?” Bilbo asked, wanting to speak alone with Lobelia. Thorin took a second to react, but he nodded and went to the kitchen. Bilbo moved his chair closer to the hobbit and took her hand. “Bofur is just a friend, a friend in need. But you were right about my… tastes. If my proclivities had been different, you wouldn’t have married Otho.”

Bilbo had known for a long time that Bag End wasn’t the only thing Lobelia wanted from him, so he used that to gain her support. Thorin’s well-being was worth a white lie.

When Thorin arrived with the copper kettle, Bilbo and Lobelia were still holding hands. The dwarf glared at the both of them.

Bilbo had another cup of tea, to keep up the ruse. This time Thorin was tenser than Lobelia.

Before walking Lobelia out, Bilbo went to his room and returned with a bag and a necklace.

“I’ll need more than your silence, Lobelia. You have to buy food for me, people are starting to ask about my many purchases at the market. This is for the expenses,” Bilbo said giving the hobbit the bag full of coins. “And this is for all the trouble,” he added, offering her the impressive necklace. Lobelia stared at its big gemstones with wonder. “And remember, nobody can know about Bofur, not even Otho. You’ll need to spread more rumours about ‘the friend of dwarves’ to keep people far from Bag End. I don’t mind the bad name, I just want to be left alone until Bofur is safe.”

“She’s a despicable hobbit,” Thorin said when Lobelia was finally out of Bag End.

“Yes, amongst other things,” Bilbo answered. “But she’ll not talk; she loves riches more than gossip.”

They didn’t talk about Lobelia again until later that night, while Bilbo was massaging Thorin’s feet.

“Your cousin spoke about you visiting Bree. That’s why you wanted to go there?” Thorin asked. Bilbo didn’t answer, but his hands stopped stroking his toes. “Don’t go,” the dwarf said harshly.

Bilbo nodded, pressing his lips together in shame. Of course Thorin would despise his past behaviour….


	7. Becoming Uneasy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I'm going to post the rest of the story, and if there're more mistakes I'll revise them later...

The next day Thorin surprised Bilbo by asking him for help with his bath.

After their last conversation, Bilbo expected that Thorin wouldn’t want him close, especially if he was naked. But that morning Thorin had taken off his shirt for Bilbo to clean his wounds, and then he told the hobbit that he wanted to bathe.

Knowing that this time Thorin would surely pay more attention to him, Bilbo tried not to look at his body at all, even when he was washing it.

“I can’t. Today my arm is hurting me,” Thorin said when Bilbo, as usual, lent him the sponge for washing his privates.

Bilbo met Thorin’s eyes for a moment. The dwarf was serious, but somehow his eyes were beaming at him with a bright and intense gaze.

There was no way Bilbo was going to believe his words. This was the first time the dwarf had complained about his aches, and Bilbo had seen him holding tears of pain every time he had tried to use his injured arm. Also, the moment he chose to whine couldn’t be more inappropriate.

But Bilbo had faced Azog for Thorin, so he bravely watered the sponge, poured some more soap on it, and washed his groin as clinically as he had washed the rest of his body. Or he tried to do it, because when the strokes of the sponge made Thorin’s dwarf-hood swell, Bilbo’s hand wasn’t steady anymore.

“I need more warm water,” Bilbo said suddenly, taking a bucket and going to the kitchen without even looking at Thorin.

 

Bilbo was unsettled the rest of that day.

Thorin hadn’t said a word about the awkward bath, but he had looked oddly at Bilbo since then. What was the dwarf’s purpose? Bilbo was not a fool, he was sure that that sudden strange behaviour had to do with what Lobelia had said about his visits to Bree. It was almost as if Thorin was… flirting with him.

Bilbo could only think of two reasons for Thorin’s plans of seduction: he wanted to compensate the hobbit for offering him shelter or he was simply in need of male company. The first option made the hobbit sick, and the other one… the other one would have made his day some weeks ago. Now Bilbo would rather have a stranger of Bree share his bed than Thorin Oakenshield. He feared fading when the dwarf returned to his Mountain.

Because Bilbo’s attraction had become love after days of shared meals, laughs, and even harsh words. At first he had longed for his stout and compact body, his long hair and his short beard, for his tanned skin, rough in some places and smooth in others, and for his clear and deep gaze. But lately he had fallen for his strength, his honour, his devotion to his people, his rare smiles, his deep conversations in his lounge… and for the sounds he made while Bilbo rubbed his feet.

Bilbo didn’t stroke or caress Thorin’s feet that night. He rubbed them with apathy, blaming himself for being an old romantic hobbit. He should be fucking that dwarf, and not pining for what he would never have. Even if Thorin was in fact attracted to him —and the hobbit thought that that wasn’t really likely— Bilbo was so smitten with the dwarf that their casual coupling would wound Bilbo as deep as the cut in Thorin’s arm.

Bilbo finished sooner than any other day.

Thorin then took his hand and brought the hobbit to his room without saying a word. Bilbo didn’t like the gesture, somehow it seemed more intimate than helping him bathe, as if he was being helped by a lover. Bilbo didn’t need that idea in his mind, especially when he was about to take care of Thorin’s wounds.

Usually Thorin just took off his shirt, but this time he also removed his breeches.

Bilbo wondered again what Thorin’s main purpose for his obvious seduction was. Deciding to not to fall for it, Bilbo cleaned the wound on his arm while not looking at any other place but the cut. He smeared Gandalf’s ointment and dressed the wound before drawing his attention to the stomach.

When Bilbo took off the bandages… he was dumbfounded. Thorin’s abdominal wound was almost healed, but Bilbo was staring in awe a bit lower. Thorin was hard. The swollen shape of his cock was noticeable under his briefs, the very head of his dwarf-hood was sticking out of it.

Bilbo looked at Thorin’s face. There was sincere want in his eyes, mirroring his own desire. Bilbo could take what he had desired all those weeks, he just had to reach out and pay the price and enjoy it… but the feelings of love and fear in his chest were too intense to disregard.

“This one is almost closed. I think it’s better that I leave it undressed for now,” Bilbo said, wanting to leave the bedroom as soon as he could.

“Bilbo…” Thorin said with his deep voice.

“No,” Bilbo answered, closing his eyes to avoid temptation.

“I know you want me,” Thorin said abruptly. He grabbed Bilbo’s hand with his healthy one and placed his palm on the bulge in his own pants. “You can’t deny it,” he insisted, watching closely to the hobbit’s reactions.

Bilbo was on fire. He was feeling the warm flesh through the fabric, trying to hold his lust when the only thing he wanted to do was tear the underwear and kiss, and lick, and nuzzle and lick again and again.

The throbbing under his hand brought Bilbo to gently squeeze, sensing how the cock was still swelling up.

“Yes,” Thorin moaned. “Take me in your hand, you know you’ve wanted it since the first time you saw it.”

“No,” Bilbo insisted, moving his hand aside. Thorin had known about his desire then. So the dwarf’s seduction had been a mix of what Bilbo had feared: making the most of the hobbit’s and his own desires. No feelings involved in the king’s want.

Thorin huffed and glared at Bilbo. He put a finger inside his pants and lowered them, showing his cock in all its splendour. The dwarf chuckled when Bilbo’s eyes widened.

Even though having seen it in his normal state, and having sensing its shape with his hand, the view was impressive. Bilbo was gaping, until he closed his mouth because it was watering. Thorin’s cock was not disproportionate, but given that he has never been with a lover as big as the dwarf, that member was the hugest he had seen in all his life.

Bilbo desired it, and it was within reach. He just had to pay the price, a price he wasn’t ready to pay.

“Bilbo,” Thorin said then, in a kinder tone of voice. “I’m offering myself to you. What prevents you from taking what you want, what you've been waiting for a while?"

“Fear,” Bilbo answered. He laughed self-deprecatingly. He sighed and covered the temptation with infinite care. “As you said once: I’m not a dwarf, I’m just a hobbit without courage.”

Even though Bilbo was excited, he didn’t touch himself when he arrived to his room. He just went to bed and imagined Thorin coming to him with his gorgeous face and his inciting body, taking him with his huge cock without even requesting it, taking from him the terrible decision that was paining him so much.


	8. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amazing ART by [jali-jali](http://jali-jali.tumblr.com) and [bbeckx](http://seadeepspaceontheside.tumblr.com/)  
> Be careful with they're so hot!!!!

From that day on there was no more placid talking while Bilbo cooked, no more laughs, no more foot massage after a soothing soiree in his lounge.

Bilbo just continued treating Thorin’s wounds and helping the dwarf wash, and it was just as uncomfortable as it had been the first time.

“Are you going to Bree?” Thorin asked one morning after seeing Bilbo with his coat.

That sentence was the catalyst Bilbo needed to end the tense atmosphere at Bag End.

“No, I’m going to the market. _We_ are going to the market.”

“You and who else?” Thorin required angrily.

“You, stubborn dwarf!”

“I can’t be seen at the Shire!” Thorin shouted.

“As if I didn’t know that. Luckily we have a magical ring, don’t we? Here, we’re going to change your clothes, even though nobody’s going to see you. And for once you’ll need to put your boots on.”

Thorin was so taken aback that he didn’t complain in the least. He had also thought that the tension between them was going to end badly, very likely with the irritating hobbit under him and moaning like a Balrog.

“You’ll have to be close to me at all times,” Bilbo said, when they were ready to go. “If you have something to say, touch my shoulder. If you see something you like at the market, touch my shoulder. If you have to stop for any reason.…”

“I’ll touch your shoulder,” Thorin said obediently. All of their issues aside, he really wanted to go outside for a change.

Bilbo was excited too. These words had been the nicest conversation they’d had for days, and just at his door he felt Thorin’s hand on his shoulder, the first time the dwarf had touched him since _that_ night.

“This is Hamfast’s hole,” Bilbo whispered, as he was alone on the road. “And that one is Otho’s and Lobelia’s smial. It’s smaller than mine, which is why.… Good morning, Filibert!” Bilbo suddenly exclaimed.

Before they reached the market Bilbo had to greet three more hobbits and one of the men of Bree, luckily not the owner of the inn he used to visit.

He didn’t talk to Thorin anymore, but he spoke his mind at the market, pointing out to the invisible dwarf the bests stands and goods.

Thorin just touched Bilbo’s shoulder when they reached a particular market stall. Of course it was the blacksmith’s. Bilbo was pushed into the left side of the stand. Supposing Thorin had seen something he wanted, he touched every dagger on the table.

“This one is nice,” he said, pointing at an ornate dagger, seeing as he was being watched closely by the smith. But Thorin didn’t touch his shoulder, so he pointed at another one. “Even though this one is beautiful too.” Still no hand on his shoulder.

“Please, little sir,” the man said. “Allow me to help you, I can see you don’t know which one to choose. If you look on the other side you’ll found others more suitable to your height.”

Bilbo was going to move to the spot the smith was pointing, but a grip on his coat detained his in place.

“Oh, but the dagger is not for me. It’s for a friend,” Bilbo said. “A dwarf.”

“A dwarf?” The smith asked. Then his eyes widened. “Are you the Hobbit Burglar of Erebor?” he said with awe.

Bilbo chuckled, he liked the name. Thorin, at his back, grabbed his coat tightly.

“I am Bilbo Baggins,” he introduced himself to the man. “And I suppose you can say I’m the Hobbit of Erebor.”

“I’m Rowland, the blacksmith of Bree. Allow me to show you something more appropriate for your gift.”

The man went to his cart and returned with a dagger in hand. Bilbo felt Thorin’s body at his back, so tense that he could feel his fast breathing against the top of his head. But when he saw the dagger that the smith was offering the hobbit, Thorin just touched Bilbo’s shoulder. The work on it was clearly better than any other piece on the table. The dagger was simply ornate with stones that seemed like jewels and a beautiful handle made of bone. Thorin thought the dagger was indeed fitting for him, as _Orcrist’s_ handle was bone too.

“I’ll take this one,” Bilbo said, noticing Thorin’s interest.

“Then it’s yours,” the man said solemnly.

“How much do I owe you?” Bilbo asked, having also noticed the quality of the piece.

“It’s yours for free.”

“I couldn’t accept it!” Bilbo objected.

“Believe me, little sir, I’ve earned good money thanks to you. This is just a gift in thanks for your service.”

“For my service?”

“So many dwarves of Ered Luin have visited Bree on their way to the Lonely Mountain, just because they wanted to see the Hobbit of Erebor. And dwarves appreciate good metal work when they see it… In this month I’ve sold more swords, axes, and knives than a year of street trading.”

“Oh. Thank your for the gift, then,” Bilbo said, speechless.

After that singular encounter Bilbo took Thorin home. The path was deserted, all hobbits were busy at the market, so Bilbo stopped for a moment and gazed down at Hobbiton from the Hill. These days he had been in a hurry to arrive home to Thorin, so he enjoyed the beautiful green view. Feeling the dwarf’s warmth at his back was comforting, especially after those last tense days.

“Breath-taking,” Thorin whispered in his ear.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t help but lean his back against Thorin’s chest, revelling in his close presence, the thing he had missed the most.

“I didn’t know a dwarf could appreciate green things,” Bilbo teased him.

“I’m a son of stone, not a tree lover,” Thorin said drily. “But I can see beauty in the colours of nature,” he whispered. “Can you see the grass at the foot of that lone tree?”

“That’s the Party Field,” Bilbo said, watching the place with new eyes.

“That grass is as deep a green as the many emeralds in Erebor’s treasury. There’s beauty too in your people’s children, they are so carefree. Are you seeing those little hobbits playing near that water mill?”

“Sandyman’s Mill. I used to go there with my cousins when I was a child. Once I fell in the water and almost drowned. My mother got so mad at me.”

“Your eyes are the colour of the river,” Thorin muttered, caressing Bilbo’s ear with his lips.

Bilbo chuckled, “The river is called The Water. And now you’re mocking me.”

“I’m not, and you know it,” Thorin declared decisively. He placed his unwounded hand on Bilbo’s hip and pulled him against his bulky groin. Thorin felt how the hobbit’s body trembled with desire against him. “You feel the same, Bilbo. Why do you fear acting on it?”

Bilbo remained silent, pondering his own choices. It was difficult to maintain his prudence when he was feeling Thorin’s robust body tempting him.

He closed his eyes and thought about the alternatives that had kept him awake most nights: was it better to live a long and boring life at the Shire, or have a short life after letting Thorin Oakenshield consume him? Reclining against the dwarf’s warm and firm body, feeling his soothing breath against his ear… Bilbo felt he was choosing the wrong, cowardly choice.

“Bilbo!” Shouted a voice far from the lane. Bilbo straightened up so fast that Thorin had to steady him. “Bilbo, are you all right?” A hobbit asked, approaching them both. Of course, he only saw Bilbo. “I was looking for you, my sister told me you were at Hobbiton.”

“Good morning, Dinodas,” Bilbo greeted. “I saw Primula at the market, indeed, she was with my cousin Drogo,” Bilbo said, trying to dissimulate his discomfiture.

“He’s always pursuing her. I don’t like it in the slightest.”

“Have you something against Drogo Baggins?” Bilbo asked harshly.

“I know he’s your cousin, Bilbo, I just… she’s so young!And Primula is your cousin too, for the Took side of the family.”

“If I recall correctly, there was a young hobbit whose favourite pastime was not a proper one for his age,” Bilbo chastised Dinodas affectionately.

“If I recall correctly, my pursuer was older than me. And that one was not a lady,” the hobbit said teasingly, staring at Bilbo in a way that made him blush.

“Please, don’t let Primula hear that you’re calling her a lady. Even being your little sister, she used to climb trees faster than you,” Bilbo said, trying to change the subject. He didn’t like the path the conversation was taking. After all, Thorin was hearing them. He could still feel his presence at his back.

“Well, I have to admit she’s even stronger than Drogo,” Dinodas joked. “How are you, Bilbo? Lately you’re hard to see, and even harder to speak to.”

“I’m fine, I’m just busy,” Bilbo justified.

“I can’t see how you’re still busy, a year after your comeback. Bilbo… Lobelia is spreading lies about your sanity. She says that you need calm, that nobody should visit Bag End. She’s even buying you food, isn’t she?”

“She does. Because I asked her. Don’t worry, Dinodas, I’m just tired. You don’t know how draining traveling is, and I went so far...”

“But Lobelia… she’s after Bag End, you should know that after what you found when you arrived. I could help you better, Bilbo. If you let me…”

“I know about Lobelia’s expectations, Dinodas. I’ve faced Trolls and Orcs, I think I can manage the Sackville-Baggins.”

“So it’s true, what people say about your adventure,” Dinodas said in awe. Bilbo just nodded, blushing. “I would love to know more, every detail. We could go someday to Bree, just like the good old times,” he said, getting closer to Bilbo. “Or I could visit you at Bag End,” he added in a seducing tone. “I miss you so much, Bilbo. I’ve missed our meetings since you were gone without a word.”

Dinodas caressed Bilbo’s red cheek, showing true affection and maybe something more that scared Bilbo. And enraged Thorin.

“Please, not here. You wouldn’t want people to see you with Bilbo Baggins, I’m not as respectable as I was before,” Bilbo tried to joke.

“I don’t mind gossip, you should know that by now,” Dinodas stated. Then he grabbed Bilbo’s chin and steadied him to steal a kiss, a quick kiss that lingered just a second, but that was obviously given with love. “Please, think about it. Think about us.”

  
  
ART by the wonderful [jali-jali](http://jali-jali.tumblr.com/post/87407670922/i-participated-in-this-hobbit-big-bang-thing)  


Bilbo was so astonished that the shove on his back startled him, even knowing it was surely Thorin.

“Are you all right, Bilbo?” Asked Dinodas, seeing the hobbit had lost his balance without reason.

“Yes, yes. It’s just… Now is not the moment, Dinodas…”

“I understand. But I want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you, no matter the time,” the hobbit said sincerely.

“But.…”

“Ssh…” Dinodas said, putting his finger on Bilbo’s lips. “I understand. There’s no hurry, I’ll be waiting as I’ve been since you went away.”

The hobbit tried to kiss Bilbo good-bye, but Bilbo was aware this time and turned his face. Dinodas kissed his cheek instead.

When the hobbit was out of view Bilbo called Thorin, first whispering his name and then almost shouting, fearing the dwarf would have gone home without him.

After a while without any answer Bilbo ran to Bag End. Once there he looked for Thorin, but soon it was obvious that the dwarf wasn’t in the smial yet.

Two hours later Bilbo was so filled with despair that he was about to go to the Sackville-Baggins’s hole to ask Lobelia for help. But when he was about to go out, the door opened with nobody in sight.

As soon as the door was closed, Thorin appeared in front of Bilbo. He stood there with the ring in his fist, staring at the hobbit. No one said a word until Bilbo burst into cries.

“Where were you? I was so worried! I told you not to go far from me!”

“I was giving you privacy.”

“Why, in the name of Yavanna?” Bilbo asked, making a fuss.

“That hobbit seemed to want you all to himself,” Thorin said bitterly.

“Well, I didn’t want to be alone with him. Not with Dinodas Brandybuck, not with any other,” Bilbo sighed deeply. “I was mad with worry, Thorin,” Bilbo said honestly.

“I was just wandering around, making time,” Thorin said gentler. “I’ve been thinking about you, Bilbo, a lot. Why do you resist me? Why do you deny what you’re feeling? You’ve been taking care of me all this time. I could take care of you too.…”

“That’s your motivation? Repaying my compassion with sex?”

“What? No!! I can’t believe you thought…!” Thorin shouted. Then he sighed deeply and met Bilbo’s eyes. “Do you really think that I would do that, Bilbo?” he asked, his tone of voice showing the pain in his heart.

“Yes. Maybe. No, not really. I know you do want me, Thorin. But that’s not enough for me,” Bilbo said apologetically.

The King under the Mountain stared at Bilbo for a while, not saying a word. He was clenching his left fist, the ring inside leaving a mark in his skin.

“What do you need, then? A hobbit?” Thorin asked in a disdainful tone. “You’ll never be happy in your Shire, not after the adventure you like to boast about. Not with a boring hobbit that only knows about gardens and food.”

“Dinodas Brandybuck is a lumberjack, not a gardener, not that there’s anything wrong with being a gardener. And his father is the Master of Buckland, even though if I wanted to be in politics I would address my own grandfather, the Thain of the Shire!” Bilbo left the entrance hall muttering, “The nerve of the dwarf! He first compliments Hobbiton and then he dares to insult all of the Shire…”

Bilbo went to the lounge and leant against the mantelpiece. He was so tired now that the tension was drained from him. Also, he had missed second breakfast and lunch. He needed to eat and rest before facing Thorin again, or he will say something that he would regret later.

Then a metallic sound startled him: Thorin was leaving the ring on the mantelpiece.

“I’m sorry,” Thorin said. “I don’t know why I was so harsh,” he tried to explain.

“You’re tired. I’m tired myself. Come on, let’s remove your boots, you’re staining the rug!”

They shared a laugh at last, in the safe homely environment. Thorin sat in their sofa and Bilbo knelt at his feet to help him out of his boots, as he hadn’t done for a very long time.

“Oh, look at your feet! You have sores all over. Did you spend the time walking around without stop?” Bilbo asked when the boots and socks were off.

Thorin shrugged his shoulder. He was caressing Bilbo’s hair while the hobbit worked at his feet. When Bilbo finished, he looked up and met Thorin’s eyes. For a moment they kept looking at each other, until the dwarf’s hand moved down to Bilbo’s chin and his mouth lowered to the hobbit’s lips.

The kiss lingered until Bilbo was aware of the fact that Thorin had finally taken action. Then he couldn’t help but participate, unable to relinquish the delightful feeling of finally being kissed by someone he had feelings for.

Thorin didn’t stop either, fearing Bilbo would confront him once passion had cooled. But for the moment the passion was burning intensely, consuming all desires that they had been accumulating for weeks.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered against his mouth, slightly scratching his lips with the dwarf’s beard.

“Not now,” Thorin answered taking advantage of Bilbo’s open mouth to put his tongue in it, savouring what he had been craving for a long time.

The wet gliding of their tongues inflamed the passion. Soon they were moaning and their breaths were accelerating that the kiss was broken by its own ardour.

“How can you fight such a strong desire?” Thorin asked, looking at Bilbo with enthralled eyes. “Tell me, what do you fear that could be stronger than this?” When Bilbo didn’t answer, Thorin added, “You fear me, for what I did to you at Erebor,” he spoke his mind at last.

“No!” Bilbo denied, horrified that Thorin would think such a thing. “I fear fading,” he finally confessed, too tired to fight anymore.

“Fading?” Thorin chuckled, appalling Bilbo. “Fading like an elf?”

“Thorin Oakenshield, do not talk to me about what you don’t know!” Bilbo shouted heatedly. He stood and paced around the lounge, irately waving his arms. “When my father died, my mother mourned him for eight years, eight years! She was a Took. She was such a brave hobbit! She was always tough and happy. But when my father died her cheerful nature faded. She passed away as a shadow of the hobbit she had been. Seeing her fade was the hardest thing that ever happened to me.”

Thorin stood and called a halt to Bilbo’s strolling, grabbing both his hands with his left one. He joined their foreheads, asking forgiveness for his neglectful words. When Bilbo’s shoulders relaxed Thorin returned to the sofa, bringing the hobbit with him. Nobody talked until Bilbo steadied his breath.

“I’m sorry, it’s a sore subject for me,” Bilbo excused himself for making a fuss.

Thorin just shook his head, leaning again to kiss his hobbit. This time the kiss was slower and gentler.

“You were right, I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you in the nude,” Bilbo admitted. Thorin chuckled and the hobbit glared at him. “But after living together… day after day I’ve come to know you… and to love you.”

“There are very few people who really know me. Among them only my family loves me,” Thorin said with a pleased smile. He tenderly kissed Bilbo again. “So what you really fear is that the schemers will kill me in the end.”

“No! I trust Dwalin and Nori, I know everything will be all right in the end!”

“Then, what do you fear? I know I’m old, but dwarves have a longer life expectancy, especially Durin’s folk.”

“I don’t fear your death! I just… I don’t want to fade with memories of you, when you go back to Erebor,” Bilbo said, lowering his eyes.

“Do you really think I was seducing you into my bed just to leave you behind when I’d return to my people?” Thorin asked. “By Mahal, Bilbo!” He exclaimed exasperatedly. “I thought you’d come to know me,” he finally said, deflated.

“I don’t want to be a burden, Thorin. I know how busy your life at Erebor is, you’ve told me all about your role as a King. I have no place in it. My place is here, in the Shire.”

“You’re not a burden, you’re my _âzyungâl_! Do you know how difficult it is to find your true love across all Middle-earth? Do you think I was going to rule Erebor without you? I would have come sooner to the Shire, were it not for the attempts on my life.”

“That cannot be true,” Bilbo said, bewildered. “You only approached me when you knew about my proclivities because of Lobelia’s big mouth!”

“Bilbo, I knew about your tastes since I saw you looking at Nori and Dwalin kissing. There was such want in your eyes… but you told me it was not done between hobbits, so I thought you were against it. When I understood you had acted on your desires at Bree, I decided to pursue you. The want in your face during my baths couldn’t lie to me.” Bilbo blushed and looked down again, but Thorin lift his chin and kissed his pout. “I was in need too, it cost me so much to hide my own desire. Now tell me, are you going to consent to my overtures? Will you come to Erebor to live by my side? Will you share all my evenings as I’ve shared yours?” Thorin asked, knowing Bilbo was just needing a reminding of how well they had lived together. “I promise I will not force you to wear boots,” he joked, fearing the tension would force Bilbo to decide against him.

“Your Highness is so magnanimous,” Bilbo mocked Thorin. He bowed ostentatiously, but when he straightened he suddenly became serious. “I’ll go to Erebor with you,” he said solemnly.

“Of course you’ll go! Who else would rub my feet every night?” The lounge reverberated with Thorin’s deep laugh. He was relieved and profoundly pleased by Bilbo finally submitting to his feelings.

“I love your laugh,” Bilbo said in wonder. “I love you,” he added, saying at last the words he had thought so many times.

Bilbo placed his hands on Thorin’s face and looked closely at his bright eyes and his thin lips that kept on smiling. He kissed them, once, and then he drew them with his tongue, slowly, as he had daydreamed countless times.

When Thorin deepened the kiss, Bilbo shifted and shook his head.

“I’ve dreamt about all the things I’d do to you if I could have you in my arms. Now is my time,” Bilbo said, smirking.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, the hobbit’s eyes widened and he beamed. He began to unbutton Thorin’s shirt, as he had done every day, even though this time he didn’t conceal the want in his gaze.

“How I wanted to kiss your poor arm…” Bilbo said, taking the shirt off completely. “Since the first time I dressed your wound.”

The hobbit tenderly kissed the skin around the bandage, nuzzling the armpit with infinite care. He at last could sense Thorin’s particular smell, the scent he had secretly sought when he was helping the dwarf out of his clothes.

“I’ve dreamt too about this moment,” Thorin said with a deep tone of voice. “I’ve touched myself so many times after you left me alone in your room.”

“Naughty dwarf,” Bilbo said teasingly. He pushed Thorin with care until he was lying on the sofa, Bilbo kneeling between his legs. “You touched yourself in my bed?” He asked, kissing his way to the other wound. He licked around the tender scar on his stomach.

“Aye. Just thinking of you,” Thorin confessed, not averting his eyes from what Bilbo was doing, even though his stomach was hurt by the effort.

“Tell me more,” Bilbo demanded, lowering Thorin’s breeches a bit and kissing the hairy skin under his navel.

“Bilbo…” Thorin whined, closing his eyes and reclining his head on the cushion. “I thought about your hands under my clothes.”

“More,” Bilbo hissed, putting his hand under Thorin’s breeches, caressing the thick hair on his groin.

“I imagined you were washing my wounds and then you put your hands on me, all over, touching me just as your gaze touched me with its intensity.”

“I was dying to feel you,” Bilbo moaned.

“Do it then. Touch me.”

Bilbo unlaced the breeches and lowered them together with the underwear. He stared at Thorin’s cock for the first time without shame. He touched the head with his fingertip and then slowly caressed the rest of the hard length.

“Once at the inn in Bree I saw a man in the nude. He was with a female hobbit,” Bilbo began to tell.

“That inn really has diverse offers,” Thorin said severely.

“Indeed they have,” Bilbo answered with a smile, pleased with Thorin’s obvious jealousy. “As I was saying… I saw that man naked. He was hard. However, this is the biggest member I’ve seen in all my life,” he finished in awe.

“I’m larger than you, my dwarf-hood is just… proportionate,” Thorin said, even though he was so secretly pleased by Bilbo’s appreciation.

“That man was bigger than you, yet the thing he had between his legs was not as huge as this lovely example,” Bilbo teased, gently squeezing the cock in his hand. “You know, I thought about you too. A lot. And I wanted to do more than touch you,” he said, wetting his lips with his tongue in a suggestive way.

“You can’t say that and do nothing about it,” Thorin stated, smirking.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’m going to do something in fact,” Bilbo said, but he didn’t take action. He continued feeling the warm cock in his hand, enjoying how the member swelled even a bit more.

“Bilbo,” Thorin chastise him. He bucked his hips, making a face when the tender wound on his abdomen throbbed.

“Don’t move, let me do the work,” Bilbo said, leaning over the dwarf to kiss his lips. He tried to hold his weight, but Thorin embraced him with one arm.

“Then _do_ it once and for all,” Thorin grunted, biting the hobbit’s mouth.

“Grumpy dwarf! I was going to do it! Don’t you like playing a bit?”

“No games when I’ve been wanting you for weeks and now I can finally have you,” Thorin whispered.

Bilbo kissed him deeply, pleased with the obvious desire of his dwarf. He knelt between Thorin’s legs again and continued kissing him: his chest, his navel, his strong abdomen, his hairy groin. The hobbit didn’t wait anymore, he kissed Thorin’s cock too, smiling at the dwarf’s cursing.

For a while Bilbo was lost to his senses. He licked and sucked and nibbled a bit too. There was so much of Thorin to enjoy, and he was relishing in every inch of him. His tongue was delighted with the generous length of warm skin to lick. The girth of his cock was perfect; Bilbo couldn’t believe how much he was opening his mouth to accommodate it. He was so excited that he was squeezing himself to prevent coming spontaneously.

Then he was pulled up by his hair. When he looked up he saw Thorin’s glaring at him, all flushed.

“Don’t you like it?” Bilbo asked, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand.

Thorin actually roared with laughter.

“Gluttonous hobbit! Another time you’ll have in your mouth the proof that I was enjoying myself a great deal. But now I want to have you. I _need_ you. Would you let me have you?” Thorin asked, in need.

Bilbo smiled, gazing at him lovingly.

“I want you in me as much as you want it, Thorin.”

The dwarf sat on the sofa, watching amazed as Bilbo began to disrobe decisively. The hobbit took the small bottle of oil he hadn’t needed in days and handed it to Thorin, who beckoned him to come closer.

“Are you sure?” Thorin asked. He grabbed Bilbo’s hips and placed him between his legs. He kissed the hobbit’s navel, teasing him as he had been teased before. “My size could be a problem.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not out of habit,” Bilbo tormented Thorin, moving his hips to demand attention. The dwarf grasped his dick tightly. “Mmm… I have this friend… this _huge_ friend…”

“I thought mine was the biggest you’ve ever seen,” Thorin said harshly, letting go of Bilbo’s dick in order to grope his right buttock.

“Oh, my friend’s one is not as big as yours. And it’s made of wood,” Bilbo finally said, winking at the dwarf.

“Wood? And you call me naughty!” Thorin yelled, even though he was beaming.

“A lonely hobbit has his needs too. You should have seen me the day I retrieved it from my room… you were in bathroom, and I feared you would find out my secret…”

“If I had found you with a wood dildo in your hand…” Thorin groaned. “I would have ravished you in the act.” Thorin nuzzled Bilbo’s now deflated cock. It grew hard in merely seconds.

“You were… you were so weak, those first days,” Bilbo moaned.

“I would have commanded you to ride me. Would you have ridden me, hobbit?”

“If you would have asked me nicely, Your Highness…” Bilbo teased. “Ask me now. Order me now.”

Thorin moved Bilbo away and stood up just to lie down again, this time on the floor.

“I’ve dreamt so many times before that I was having you on top of this blamed rug. Here, mount me, hobbit. Ride me,” Thorin demanded, groping his own cock.

ART by the amazing and kinder [bbeckx](http://seadeepspaceontheside.tumblr.com/)  


Bilbo quickly knelt, slapping the dwarf’s hands away to thoroughly oil his member. He wasted no time on himself; he had put his wooden friend to good use, those last days without Thorin’s sympathy.

“Big indeed…” Bilbo groaned, while he was lowering himself on Thorin’s groin. “The biggest… oh, so huge!”

“Are you…?”

“Delighted. Just give me a bit of time.”

Bilbo slowly moved his hips, noticing every change in his full body. It was not painful, but the overwhelming sensation was not overly pleasing. He heard a grunt and for a moment thought it had been him. He opened his eyes when he understood it had been Thorin’s.

“You’re in pain,” Bilbo said, seeing the distress in the dwarf’s face. Thorin shook his head, but he didn’t dare to open his eyes. “You are, I’m supporting my weight on you. Your stomach wound is hurting you, isn’t it?”

“No, I can bear it!” Thorin shouted when Bilbo raised to free him.

“I know,” Bilbo said, leaning over him to tenderly kiss his lips. “But you don’t need to do it. We need to enjoy this, the both of us. Let me try something.…”

Bilbo turned his back on Thorin and sat on his lap again, this time resting his weight on the dwarf’s legs.

“By Mahal, Bilbo,” Thorin said, once he understood what the hobbit was trying to do. His cock, which had lost its hardness, swelled fast at the view of his lover’s bum, red and oiled. When he was again inside the hobbit, he moaned loud in ecstasy. “Halfling, never again will I ride after you without remembering this day,” he said, staring enthralled as Bilbo’s body moved over him. “I will envy every pony you mount from now on,” he added, slapping the hobbit’s ass with his uninjured arm.

“You beast!” Bilbo chastised Thorin, turning his head to glare at him. “I’m doing all the work and you dare to smack me!”

“I’m so thankful for that, but your round buttocks are such a temptation…” Thorin said, groping the chubby flesh. “And the way you’re moving…” he moaned, closing his eyes for a second. “Bilbo, I’m not going to last long. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not going to last either,” Bilbo said. He began touching himself before turning his head. “But I want to see you finish,” he groaned.

“So watch,” Thorin said, smiling tenderly.

Bilbo changed his position, straddling the dwarf instead of sitting on top of him. The shift made him moan. When he was comfortable enough, he positioned his hands on his thighs and moved faster, feeling how Thorin was throbbing inside him. Then he turned his head and observed the delight in the face of his lover, who was about to reach his peak. Bilbo lowered one of his hands and caressed the dwarf’s heavy stones. He could feel how they hardened, about to empty.

Thorin grunted his pleasure, losing himself in the complete bliss. When he finally opened his eyes, Bilbo was facing backwards, his hand moving frantically while his hips bounced deliciously. Thorin was going to treasure that moment in his mind for his future private enjoyment.

“I didn’t get to see you,” he said, when Bilbo stopped altogether. He caressed the hobbit’s back, drawing imaginary lines on his skin while the hobbit was catching his breath.

“Oh no, the rug!” Bilbo exclaimed when he saw the mess he had made. But before he could complain more, he was pushed back by his lover. “Be careful! Your arm!” He yelled when he fell on top of the dwarf.

“My home-loving hobbit,” Thorin mocked Bilbo, kissing his nose. “When we are at Erebor, I’ll cover the floor of our rooms with embroidered rugs, and we will defile every inch of them.”

“I’ll do no such thing!” Bilbo complained. “I’m a proper hobbit.”

“Such a proper hobbit, the owner of a wooden dildo.”

That night they were so tired that they were deep asleep as soon as they retired to bed… together in Bilbo’s bedroom.


	9. Reassuring You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazing ART by [bbeckx](http://seadeepspaceontheside.tumblr.com/)  
> So nsfw you'll need a cold drink!

The following days they barely left Bilbo’s bed.

The hobbit even brought meals to his bedroom on a tray, against his common sense. But Thorin was so persuasive, and Bilbo was thrilled to see he was healing faster these days.

“If I had known the key to keep you still, I would have bed you the first day,” Bilbo said one peaceful afternoon in bed, Thorin’s head on his chest and his hair between his fingers. “By now you would be completely healed.”

“Gandalf said I’d never have complete use of my arm again. I barely can hold any weight with my hand. The slow healing was going to happen even with me not moving around,” Thorin said crossly, opening and closing his right hand.

“Gandalf said that was just a possibility. Have hope, you’re a strong dwarf,” Bilbo said, kissing his lover’s forehead. “Do you want to bath? The cut on your stomach is no longer tender; you could have a bath, at least until the water reach your chest. I’ll leave your bandages on, so you didn’t wet the wound,” he said, caressing the bad shoulder with his fingertips.

“I don’t know, I like enough having you on your knees servicing me…” Thorin teased his hobbit, kissing him deeply.

“I can also service you on my knees when you’re clean,” Bilbo teased him, biting his nose. He stood up and put his dressing gown on before going to the bathroom to preparing the tub.

Thorin stretched himself on the bed with a naughty smile. Bilbo was naked under that coloured garment, teasing him with his innocent look when he knew he really was a naughty creature made for pleasure. Life was good at Bag End, especially now that his hobbit was filling every one of his needs. The dwarf worried about Dwalin and Nori, and especially about his sister and his nephews, nonetheless there wasn’t anything he could do but convalesce. Meantime he was going to revel in every special moment with his hobbit.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, suddenly entering in their room. “Someone has knocked on the door,” he said while he was quickly dressing.

“Well, don’t open it. We were about to bathe,” Thorin complained. “It must be Lobelia, she’ll come later.”

“It’s not Lobelia, I took a look from the window. It’s Dinodas.”

“Are you really going to entertain him?” Thorin asked as he couldn’t believe it.

“He comes from Buckland, Thorin. I can’t send him away. He surely just wants to say hello and see if I’m well. I’ll don’t be late, wait for me,” Bilbo said lovingly before kissing his lover’s nose and going to the door.

Thorin was angry. More than angry, he was livid. He had been about to bathe with his hobbit and surely get him on his knees later and now —thanks to Mister _I want to take you to Bree_ — he was alone on their bed, waiting for that halfling to go away from _their_ smial. Well, Thorin wasn’t going to be quiet while someone was flirting with his lover just around the door.

He dressed and put the ring on before going out of the room. He found Bilbo and Dinodas sharing a drink on the kitchen, as if he wasn’t waiting for his lover in their bed! Thorin was feeling outraged.

“Delicious! Thank you Dinodas,” Bilbo was saying. “Say thanks to aunt Mirabella for the wine.”

“You do know my mother loves you. As do the rest of my family. Why don’t you come to Buckland with me? Maybe for the rest of the week; I know Dodinas and Primula would love to see you. I know you must be so alone here….” Dinodas said, smooth-tonged.

Thorin drop a wood chopping board. The deafening sound startled both hobbits likewise, even though just one of them suspected what or _who_ had dropped the thing.

“Sorry Dinodas, I must have let it just on the edge of the table,” Bilbo apologized after turning around and glaring at his back, without knowing exactly where Thorin was. “In fact I was cleaning, so is not a good time for visits.”

“Well, it doesn’t must to be now. We can plan it for fishing tournament week. Do you remember the year Rorimac sank his boat?” Dinodas laughed after that, putting his arm over Bilbo’s shoulder.

Thorin wasn’t going to put up with that hobbit cheekiness. He decidedly went out of Bag End and slammed the door on his leave.

Bilbo sighed deeply.

“What was that?” Dinodas asked.

“Just the wind,” Bilbo lied. But now that he suspected they were alone, he decided to talk to Dinodas without humiliating him before Thorin. “I can’t give you what you want,” he said, fondly caressing his younger cousin’s dark hair.

“I know,” Dinodas answered, putting his hand on top of Bilbo’s and keeping it there. “I’ve always known I couldn’t have you, not the way I want you. And since you came back… I knew something happened, on your adventure. Did you find someone?” he sadly asked. When Bilbo nodded, he asked again; “And you were… sharing the cold nights on the road, or it was something deeper?”

“It was love. It is love, Dinodas,” Bilbo confessed, not wanting to hurt his cousin, but neither gave him false hopes.

Dinodas smiled, but his eyes watered. Love was all he had ever wanted from Bilbo, even the first time when he almost tricked his older cousin into bedding him. He thought that since his parents demise Bilbo hadn’t more love to give. It was bitter to know that he finally had found the right person for him.

“So you finally can say the word.”

“Dinodas….” Bilbo tried to soothe him.

“No. I understand. After all I had some lady hobbits pursuing me; I’ve been in your place. But Bilbo… _he_ is not here as I am. I’m just offering you my friendship, and if you need a good tumble… well, I’m not going to say no at that,” Dinodas tried to joke.

Bilbo smiled and hugged his cousin, remembering so many times together in front of the fire, sharing stories and food. And making love. He could had had enough with that, before Thorin. But now that he had known love… he couldn’t do that to Dinodas knowing that his cousin loved him. Not even if Thorin hadn’t appeared at his door again.

“Thanks, Dinodas,” Bilbo whispered in his ear. “You always have been my favourite cousin,” he said, an old joke between them.

“You always will be mine.”

Dinodas gave him a long but slightly kiss. After that he turned around to leave, but before going out of the kitchen he asked; “I know there’re no hobbits out of the Shire, so… it was and elf or a dwarf?”

“A dwarf,” Bilbo answered with a smile, glad that Thorin hadn’t heard that.

“Is he alive?”

“He is,” Bilbo said after thinking a bit.

“He is a fool,” Dinodas stated then.

“Why?” Bilbo asked. “You don’t even know him.”

“Because he’s not here with you,” Dinodas sadly said, before finally going out of Bag End.

Bilbo stood there for a while, thinking about Dinodas and Thorin; the young hobbit that he had loved and the old dwarf that yes, he had been a fool.

Shortly after, someone knocked on the door.

“Well, where’s the emergency?” Lobelia asked, entering Bag End and looking around as if she was expecting fire.

“Emergency?” Bilbo asked, disconcerted.

Then Thorin appeared in front of him, frowning.

“Bofur warned me, what is the problem?”

“It’s been sorted out, it seems,” Thorin said.

“I was taking care of my tomatoes! You can’t call me every time you have a problem, mad dwarf!”

“I’m sorry, Lobelia,” Bilbo apologized.

“Thank you very much, Lobelia,” Thorin said, giving her a peck on her cheek. “Next time Bilbo will make a blackberry pie to make up for this,” he added, pushing the hobbit to the door. “See you soon!” Thorin closed the door when an astonished Lobelia was out.

“Thorin! You can’t treat her like that!”

“It seems I did it.”

“Oh, stubborn dwarf! Now I have to do her a pie and it wasn’t even my fault,” Bilbo complained.

“It was your fault. You shouldn’t have opened Dinodas. So what he wanted?” Thorin asked trying to seem nonchalantly.

“You heard him; he wanted to invite me to Buckland. I said him I didn’t want to go. That was all,” Bilbo answered. He embraced Thorin, but the dwarf was tense in his arms. “Do you want to bathe now? We’ll eat something later.”

Thorin grunted and Bilbo took that for an aye, so he went to the bathroom and soon after he called for the dwarf; “Thorin! The water is warm!” he shouted. “By Yavanna,” Bilbo said when he saw his lover walking to him with nothing on. “Someday you’re going to give Lobelia a stroke, she could have returned for something” he said, steadying him when he stepped into the tub.

“It would serve her right, for she’s such a gossip,” Thorin said. He moaned when the water warmed his still sore muscles.

“We need to thank her for her silence. And her help, you silly dwarf,” Bilbo chastised. He knelt at Thorin’s head and poured water on his hair with a jug. “I adore your hair,” he said, massaging the scalp with the soap.

“As I love your fine threads of gold. And I love when you stroke mine,” Thorin purred, relaxing at last. “Are you going to remake my braids later?” Thorin asked, looking at Bilbo upside down. He wanted to make his claim, especially after Dinodas’ visit.

“If you want…. You never asked before.”

“Braids and hair are special for dwarves. Now you’ve earned the privilege.”

Bilbo was about to laugh, but he noticed the solemnity in Thorin’s face.

“And what have I done to earn such privilege?”

“Own me.”

Bilbo took Thorin’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. He smiled when he saw the lather on his beard. He poured some more soap and washed his beard and chest, taking care of not wetting the bandages. He continued his work, this time without sponge. He submerged his hand and caressed Thorin’s skin lower and lower.

“Now you’re teasing me,” Thorin said, smiling at him.

“I’m just washing you, Your Highness,” Bilbo joked. “Your Highness must be _thoroughly_ clean.”

Thorin gasped when Bilbo took his member in hand. He reclined his head on the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. He enjoyed Bilbo’s slow caresses, even when he let go of his cock and lowered his hand, playing with his stones and beyond. His hobbit really knew what to do with fingers….

“Ride me,” Thorin asked, growing weary of Bilbo’s slow pace. “Get in the tub with me.”

“The tub is small even for you, we wouldn’t fit in it together,” Bilbo said, chuckling when Thorin grunted. “Enjoy my hands for a while, you’re always rushing things.”

“I’m a king, I don’t want to wait for goodies,” Thorin joked, putting his wet hand under Bilbo’s dressing gown.

“You’re wetting the floor!” Bilbo exclaimed.

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Thorin said, suddenly standing up. Water and foam splashed floor and hobbit.

“Thorin Oakenshield!” Bilbo screamed, standing up, too, and waving his hands, which he hadn’t had the time to rinse.

Thorin stepped out from the tub and stood on the bath mat, soaking it.

Bilbo was about to chastise Thorin when he really paid attention to the view in front of him: a gorgeous dwarf dripping wet with a gorgeous erection rising proud from his soaked nest of pubic hair.

“I’ll mop later,” Bilbo finally said, wetting his lips.

Thorin had a hearty laugh.

The dwarf opened his arms and Bilbo stepped to his embrace, raising his chin to receive the hottest kiss they had enjoyed in the bathroom.

“Look what we have here…” Thorin said looking down Bilbo’s body.

The hobbit’s hard dick was poking out of his damp dressing gown.

“Not my fault,” Bilbo said, blushed. “You’re stunning all soaked.”

“Were you hard every time you bathed me?”

Bilbo smirked but didn’t answer.

Thorin grabbed the back of the hobbit’s knee with his left hand and lifted it up to his own hip. Their groins rubbed effortlessly with the dwarf’s movement of his pelvis. Bilbo looked up at him and opened his mouth, silently demanding a kiss. Thorin conceded joining their mouths in a heated dance, moving at the pace of their rubbing.

“I want you, Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin grunted, lifting his leg a bit more and pushing against him.

Bilbo gasped, leaning his head back. His pale neck was a temptation for Thorin, who kissed and bit it with passion. He moved aside the fabric with his nose, until he could reach his lover’s sensual shoulder to kiss it too. Drops fell from his soaked hair and Thorin licked them before they trickled down his hobbit’s body.

“Your dressing gown. Out,” Thorin ordered, still nibbling his neck and shoulder. “I can’t do more with that arm…” he complained, feeling as weak and powerless as he ever felt when he couldn’t fuck his lover properly.

Bilbo quickly obeyed, unlacing the belt and dropping the garment with a mere shake of his shoulders.

“You feel wonderful against me,” Bilbo said, embracing his dwarf. Thorin’s hand let go of his leg and moved down to his arse, stroking straight between his cheeks.

“I want to fuck you,” Thorin said crudely. His wet fingertips found his way inside his lover, just playing a bit with the elasticity of his hole.

“So fuck me,” the hobbit replied, shivering and blushing at his own words. He loved Thorin’s possessiveness; it made him feel desired and cherished.

“I can’t, not the way I want to,” Thorin complained. Bilbo finally put his foot on the floor, and the movement made him squeeze Thorin’s fingers. “By Mahal, I want to lift you up and fuck you against the wall. I want to pound you into the mattress without smashing you with my weight. I want to touch your cock while I’m inside of you, I want you to come just from my doing,” Thorin panted.

“My orgasms have been owned by you for quite a long time, even though you were only in my mind, Thorin,” Bilbo said fondly.

Thorin tenderly kissed him, moving aside his naughty hand, but not without first groping his buttock.

Bilbo smiled at him and picked his dressing gown from the floor, just for covering his body while he went to the kitchen, to close the curtains. He was determinate to reassure his lover after Dinodas' visit, and he knew how; he had thought so much about that since the first time he had seen Thorin’s frustration at not being capable of lifting him.

When Thorin followed him he found his hobbit in the nude, sitting on the border of the kitchen table with a bottle of oil at his side, spreading eagerly his legs for him like an Ered Luin Red-light District whore. He had never seen a lover with such a wanton look.

Thorin approached the table and positioned himself between Bilbo’s hairy feet, without touching them. He took the bottle of oil and poured some carelessly on his hand. He then noticed that his home-loving hobbit had set his dressing gown on the table, to prevent any stains.

“What are you laughing at?” Bilbo asked, worried that his lover thought he was being ridiculous instead of seductive.

“You’re the most precious thing in all Middle Earth,” Thorin said, kissing his worries away. “And the greatest teaser,” he added, kissing his mouth. He took advantage of the closeness to caress his bum with oiled fingers. “Who would have guessed that my prude hobbit was such an imp?” he wondered, playing with a finger in Bilbo’s hole.

“No fingers needed, I’m still leaking from our previous lovemaking,” Bilbo said.

“Next time Lobelia comes I’m going to tell her about her cousin’s foul mouth,” Thorin threaten his hobbit. “She has brought this oil, by the way. Maybe I’ll tell her what use we’ve put it to.”

“Oh, she’ll be so glad to know she was right: I’ve been fucking my friend Bofur!” Bilbo said playfully. Thorin glared at him, extracting his fingers from him.

“Don’t mention others while I’m fucking you.”

Losing his caring touch, Thorin oiled himself carelessly, staining the floor on purpose. He placed himself where not long before had been his fingers and pushed without mercy. Bilbo just moaned, throwing back his head.

“You. Started. Mentioning Lobelia,” the hobbit whined, more focused in receiving his lover’s shoving than in useless complaints.

“Shut up, halfling,” Thorin said, smirking at his hobbit.

Bilbo frowned at him, but soon he understood Thorin’s teasing mood. The dwarf was in charge, for once, and he was enjoying the experience so much that his approach was as rough as he was feeling himself. And Bilbo was loving every second of it.

Thorin was magnificent to his eyes, as powerful and proud as he had not seen him for a very long time. He was so handsome, his wet long hair falling over his shoulders, some locks stuck on his beard. Some drops of water fell because of the movement, sliding down his solid muscles. The bandages were soaked, and Bilbo’s lust faulted for a moment, worried about the wound that was healing so well these days. He feared a relapse, seeing how the arm was shifting violently with the movement of his hips, while his other arm was still, grabbing Bilbo’s leg in place.

“How is your arm?” Bilbo asked worriedly.

When Thorin glared at him Bilbo knew he had made a mistake, reminding the dwarf his weakness when for once he had managed to forget the limitations of his wounded body.

Bilbo seemed subdued and laid his back on the table, extending his arms over his head and placing his hands against the wall, ready to receive the toughest thrusts of his lover.

Thorin smacked his buttock, beaming, and gave Bilbo all he couldn’t give him before. He pushed into his hobbit without mercy, roaring at the rhythmic sound of the table hitting the wall.

“Kiss me,” Bilbo required with a lustful voice, trying to ease Thorin’s pace without cooling his passion.

“Where?” Thorin asked, smiling provocatively.

As Bilbo hoped, the dwarf slowed down his movements, teasing him with deep and measured thrusts. The hobbit leaned on one elbow and reached his hand to his lover, caressing Thorin’s lips with his fingertips, which were soon welcomed by a wet and eager tongue.

Thorin moaned around Bilbo’s fingers, so excited when the naughty hobbit began to move two fingers in and out of his mouth. Overwhelmed, Thorin closed his teeth tightly for a second and then released Bilbo’s fingers, only to lean over him, going for his mouth.

The kiss was brutal, all tongue and teeth and lust.

Thorin’s thrust were now frantic and short, without much space to work now that he was holding Bilbo’s weight with his left arm. Soon his legs couldn’t hold them anymore and Thorin fell to his knees, taking his lover to the floor.

  


ART by [bbeckx](http://seadeepspaceontheside.tumblr.com/)  


Nevertheless, Thorin didn’t stop fucking Bilbo brutally.

They were sweating, Bilbo’s hair as soaked now as Thorin’s. The hobbit was whining, grabbing Thorin’s shoulders and hair for life, so close to his peak thanks to the way his cock was pressed against Thorin’s hard abdomen. He was so excited that he forgot all about his lover’s wounds, in his mind there was only room for their passionate lovemaking and Thorin’s delicious groaning.

When Thorin felt the wetness of Bilbo’s release against his belly he spent himself in the throbbing warmth of his lover.

They fell exhausted on the kitchen floor.

When he had caught his breath Bilbo reached for his dressing gown and covered Thorin’s back with it, for his lover was leaning against his chest and his wet hair was cold against his nude back.

“How have I lived all these years without your tender care?” Thorin asked, kissing tenderly his hobbit’s collar bone.

“You’re mocking me again,” Bilbo complained, caressing Thorin’s mane of hair.

“No, not now. I really marvel at how indispensable you are now in my life,” he sighed, exhaling hot breath against Bilbo’s smooth skin.

“Of course. Who would rub your feet every night?” Bilbo spoke the question that had become a joke for them.

Thorin didn’t chuckle this time. He remembered how he had felt when Dinodas had touched his lover and he just embraced his hobbit tighter.


	10. Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with hot and gorgeous ART by [asparklethatisblue](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com)!!! Take a look at their faces, yes, I know Dwalin's cock is gorgeous too, but oh, the love in their faces!!!

Thorin’s life was good at the Shire, now that Bilbo was taking care of every aspect of it. Despite the occasional pain of his wounds, Thorin hadn’t been so happy since old times at Erebor. The sensation of being spoiled was so strong that he feared a debacle to come.

Then one day the dwarf that knocked on the door of Bag End’s was not a stranger.

When Bilbo opened the door, he stayed still staring at the visitor, his hand on his mouth and his eyes watering.

This time, Dwalin didn’t joke when he entered the smial. He nodded to Bilbo and looked around, looking for Thorin. Nori came after him, meting Bilbo’s eyes with pure worry.

“What happened?” Bilbo asked Nori after closing the door, having noticed that the dwarf seemed uninjured, even though Dwalin’s face was dreadfully bruised.

“Where’s Thorin?” Dwalin asked without answering the hobbit.

Thorin abruptly appeared in front of his friend, the ring in his hand and his face as worried as Bilbo’s.

Dwalin looked at him for a while, before turning his gaze to the hobbit. Then he smiled at Thorin.

“You look well enough, certainly better than the last time I saw you,” Dwalin said, patting his friend’s uninjured shoulder. “The hobbit lent you his magic ring?” he asked, knowing well how Bilbo had treasured his jewel on the quest.

“Just for hiding when we have undesirable visitors,” Thorin joked, not daring to speak about his friend’s state. He knew well how hard it was to talk about wounds when a warrior failed. And he never had seen Dwalin in such a state, not even after Azanulbizar.

“Undesirable, you said! And I was bringing you good news!” Dwalin roared, laughing after that. He was the only one who laughed.

“Good news?” Bilbo repeated incredulously.

“Aye, good news,” Dwalin said, pointing at his bruises. “Nobody at Ered Luin wanted to hear bad words about any of the Durins,” he chuckled.

“You are a Longbeard too,” Thorin said gravely. He knew well that what his friend had endured, it had been on his wellbeing.

“One that was talking shit about his kin,” Dwalin replied nonchalantly.

“And one who had been exiled from Erebor,” Nori added, knowing well how humiliated had been his partner in the Blue Mountains.

“I need a wash so bad,” Dwalin suddenly said to the hobbit.

“Of course! I’ll get some towels and warm water,” Bilbo said, always the perfect host.

Nori followed Dwalin, but he shut the door in his face. The dwarf went to the dinner room then, and found Thorin nursing a half-pint of ale. Without questions, soon Nori had another one in his hands.

“Thanks, Bilbo would serve me some boring tea,” Nori joked, without much humour.

“What happened in the Blue Mountains, Nori?” Thorin finally asked.

“We took different paths, when we arrived. I went to the red district, you know…” Thorin nodded, knowing well the way Dwalin had known his partner. “And Dwalin addressed the nobles,” he said without much respect. “Nobody knew a thing about the ambushing, in the sordid part of the city. They are loyal to you, and now to Fíli. After all, you offered them a new beginning at Erebor. They respect that, even the ones who don’t want to go. Dwalin… you know how those Lords are…” he said, looking disgusted.

“Yes, I know,” Thorin chuckled.

“They clapped his back, even without saying a word against you or Fíli. Then they paid some gold coins and Dwalin got badly beaten. When I found him was too late.”

Nori drank the rest of the ale, as if he wanted to clean the bad taste out of his mouth.

“How bad it was?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t let me see,” Nori said bitterly.

“He’s stubborn and too proud to admit he’s been defeated,” Thorin stated.

“I know well how he is,” Nori admitted with a mix of annoyance and fondness.

“Well, go with him then. He sure will not call you, even when he might be dying for it.”

Nori smiled at Thorin and went to the room Bilbo has prepared for them. He frowned when he recognized the room where Bilbo had showed him the troll’s small chest. Where was the hobbit sleeping now?

He forgot about Bilbo when Dwalin entered the room, with only a small towel covering the lower part of his massive body. His massive and bruised body.

But Nori didn’t say a word. He took the oil he brought to Ered Luin —without using it, not once—, and began to spread it on Dwalin’s skin, taking special care on the purple bruises all over. He made Dwalin sit on the bed and then massaged his tense shoulders, letting his long beard, now braided in just one plait, rest over his lover’s tattooed scalp.

Nori got to see how the four dwarves had beaten Dwalin bad. He had roared and kicked them until his friend Bâh came and helped him to disband the hired thugs.

Since that day, Dwalin almost hadn’t talked to him. Dwalin’s eyes didn’t meet his for the day, and at night the big dwarf had fled from his embraces. Nori knew why. He hadn’t wanted to address the problem on the road, but they needed to talk before going to the Iron Hills. Basically because Nori couldn’t stand to travel with that stubborn dwarf anymore without kissing and loving him. Not this time.

“You blame me for the beating,” Nori stated. Dwalin tilt his head back and looked up at him. Nori held his gaze, daring him to deny it. “You think I should have known what they were about to do, because they were from the Red District. They were scum. Like me,” he spit.

“What are you talking about?” Dwalin said, standing up and towering Nori with his impressive stature.

“I know what you do think about me. Since we performed our roles at the Blue Mountains you changed, even the few times we met alone. You knew who I was better than anybody at the Company! Why suddenly reject me? Do you think it was easy, to live that life, to live with those people, under their laws? I was young, I was lost, I had no craft and my family was hungry! I hated that life! But I survived, I was one of them and I survived. And my family too, even if they despise me now.”

“Nori,” Dwalin whispered, cradling his head between his big hands. “I didn’t know.…”

“No, you don’t. You were always talking about how you and Thorin worked hard for your people; your hard but legal work in the towns of men. But those coins weren’t enough for all the dwarves of Erebor. Some of us had to find our own ways to feed our families. And I was young, but Ori was younger and Dori…”

“Dori’s so proud of you,” Dwalin muttered, caressing his face with his fingertips. “I’m so proud of you…”

Nori whimpered and leaned into his lover, finally feeling the comfort of his arms surrounding him. But when he sought his lips, Dwalin denied him its taste again.

Nori’s eyes asked for a reason, almost watering of helplessness and fury.

“Bâh,” Dwalin answered, letting go of Nori and turning his back to him. “I saw you kissing him, the first night, at Sanbaraz alley. And then you went with him, his arm surrounding your waist, and you stayed. You stayed all night. You stayed every night.”

When Dwalin finished, he turned around and confronted Nori. The warrior hadn’t wanted to say anything before, because they never had talked properly about _them_. He even didn’t know if they were a _them_.

And after all, Nori laughed at him. He was mocking him!

“I don’t share, dwarf,” Dwalin spit the words.

“Me neither. Tell me, _dwarf_ did you stay all night at Bâh’s door? Did you go every night to his home? Did you hear my moans?”

Dwalin grabbed Nori’s shirt with so much rage that he ripped the fabric of his shoulder. He shook him until Nori managed to stop him. Then Nori kissed him, and Dwalin bit Nori’s lips, and they kissed and bit and kissed more and more until they were breathless and their lips were swollen. And Nori’s were also bloodied.

But Nori was beaming.

“You were jealous. You’re jealous,” he repeated, savouring the words in his sore mouth.

“I don’t share,” Dwalin repeated. He went to the bed and sat on it, staring at the floor while he rubbed his raw hands together. He was tired and aching all around, but he was mainly ashamed of his ferocity. He couldn’t look at Nori’s bloodied lips. He knew what was going to happen if he confessed his thoughts, which was why he hadn’t wanted to speak with Nori on the road. But he was missing him so much, even knowing that the dwarf had betrayed his love. Even though there hadn’t been promises between them. He didn’t lift his head, not even when Nori knelt between his legs and joined their foreheads.

“You couldn’t have seen me kissing him, because I didn’t kiss him at all. All we did was feign, for me to get his protection. Bâh has a sweet cunt at the Red District, he didn’t even like dwarves.”

Dwalin whined and sighed in relief.

“You silly dwarf,” Nori said, tenderly kissing his lover’s nose. “Why you didn’t ask me?” Dwalin raised his shoulders. He had a lump in his throat and couldn’t say a word. “If I’d suspected you were lying with another dwarf, I would burst in his house and would cut his throat open,” he hissed. “And do you know what I would do to you?” he asked. Dwalin shook his head, eyes wide open and breathing fast. Nori opened the towel with a forceful tug and bared Dwalin’s lap, exposing his magnificent dwarfhood. “I would make you cum, there, in front of your lover’s corpse. Then you would never forget that you are mine,” Nori stated, leaning over Dwalin and exhaling over his cock. Dwalin was erect in seconds before Nori’s watchful eyes.

“I’m yours?” Dwalin asked, trying to compose himself. But his wavering smile was not as nonchalant as he hoped.

“Aye. As much as I’m yours,” Nori said, this time with honesty in his tone of voice.

“You never said….”

Nori silenced him with a kiss. They never had needed words, and it was clear some talking was needed. But not now. Now he was hungry for Dwalin, after so many days wanting him and suffering for him.

It was as their first times together; the passion, the wrath, the sense of unease.

Before those first times, a long time ago, Nori had wanted to seduce the guard to win his freedom. That resulted with him in jail with a painful hard on and his mind as locked up as his body, full of images of that big sexy badass guard and unable to think of anything else.

One night Nori barged in Dwalin’s and Balin’s home and had his way with the guard after having tied him to the bed while he was sleeping. That time the impressive size was not the only problem, because Nori had to be silent not to wake the older brother and also had to avoid blows and kicks. He was so busy devouring his prize that he didn’t notice Dwalin’s hands on his head until he had swallowed all his considerable come.

They ended up waking Balin, who entered the room to find his brother deep inside Nori.

That night was not the only one Nori barged in the Fundin’s, even though he didn’t need to tie Dwalin anymore. They didn’t talk much, but they had so many good times. Nori worshipped Dwalin’s body, and Dwalin allowed that. Dwalin wanted to be in control, and Nori allowed his coldness, acknowledging in silence the longing gazes and the caresses that the guard only gave him when he thought the thief was asleep.

So Nori knew, even though Dwalin didn’t dare to act until the imminent battle, at Erebor’s gates. Since then their relationship was taken for granted, without bonds or promises. When Thorin’s life was at stake, their priorities changed.

These days at Bag End were to be an oasis between tasks and Nori was going to enjoy that time as they consumed the night before the Battle of the Five Armies.

Dwalin’s skin was still wet of oil and water, and Nori drank every drop that fell from his beard to his sturdy chest. He tenderly kissed every bruise of his ribcage, feeling warmly inside now that he knew Dwalin didn’t blame him for the beating.

While nuzzling Dwalin’s strong thighs, Nori felt how his lover was undoing his braids. He smiled knowing well how much his lover must have missed the touch of his hair. Dwalin was always combing his locks with his fingers, especially after their lovemaking.

But Nori preferred another kind of touch while they were at it. He suddenly leaned over his lover gorgeous cock and treacherously bit it. Dwalin closed his fists around his hair and pulled hard. Nori moaned deep and lengthily.

Trying to making up for his naughtiness, Nori kissed and lapped all along the impressive cock. He had missed it so much, the feeling of his smooth flesh, the hardness, the warmth, the taste. Nori didn’t like to suck Dwalin after bathing, because the clean taste of him was so different from the particular taste Nori found so arousing. But he worked his mouth all over his hardness and soon he was rewarded with some pearls of liquid that he licked and savoured as if they were the finest sauce.

  


ART by [asparklethatisblue](http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/88760815573/and-another-smutty-picture-for-the-hobbit-big-bang)  


“I want to take you,” Dwalin growled.

“Not now. I want to pleasure you,” Nori confessed.

Dwalin stared at him. It was the first time Nori had said to him something like that. It was the first time anybody said to him something like that, especially with such desire in his eyes and in his tone of voice. But Dwalin was so excited after so many days without his Nori…

“Inside,” Dwalin insisted.

“No,” Nori replied, lapping his cock through a naughty smile.

“So many days, Nori. It will be fast… and a lot.”

“I’m ready. And I’m hungry for you.”

Dwalin moaned. He was about to explode, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from Nori, who was now sucking him like mad, moaning himself and trying to deep throat him without choking.

At first it hadn’t been easy for Nori fellating Dwalin, not with his size and Nori’s scarce previous interest in the matter. But one does not simply waste such a massive gift, and Nori soon found a new taste for it. Now he was an expert, knowing every touch and trick Dwalin preferred.

While sucking and nibbling the smooth head of his cock, Nori caressed Dwalin’s chest, coating his fingers with oil. When he noticed that his lover was breathing faster, he put one finger inside his hole and with practiced precision rubbed his knot of pleasure.

Dwalin didn’t warn him, but he needed not advise, he knew well his lover’s body responses. He drank eagerly; Dwalin had been right, there was a lot. After that Nori couldn’t wait a second more, he stood up and freed himself before wanking furiously once, two, three strokes until he was coming all over Dwalin’s chest.

Exhausted, Nori fell on to the bed and opened his arms in clear invitation. Dwalin obeyed and crawled to him, embracing him.

Nori groaned then, complaining at the sticky fluid on his shirt.

“You need to bathe the same,” Dwalin said. Nori smiled against the croock of his neck, noticing the cheerful tone of voice that Dwalin only used with him and his own brother. He had missed his warrior so much.

“How could you think that I could betray you, Dwalin?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Dwalin roared.

Nori bit his good earlobe. He knelt on the bed and meeting Dwalin’s eyes he said, “Well, I want to. I thought it was clear after the battle; I’m yours and you are mine. Do you think I let them cut my hair because of Thorin? Because of Erebor? Damn Dwalin, I did it just for you! I knew you were going with Thorin, and I didn’t want to be parted from you when we were together at last. And I wanted you to be proud of me…” he added in a whisper.

Dwalin knelt too and embraced him tight, not knowing what to say.

Lucky Nori knew his warrior wasn’t good with words, so he relished in his touch understanding every feeling Dwalin wanted to express.

“Let’s go washing, or the hobbit will think we were doing naughty things,” Nori said after a while, joking about the proper Mister Baggins.

Dwalin chuckled and nodded, but before going out of bed he kissed his lover long and tenderly.

“Dwalin,” Nori said when he stood up. “Do you remember about the coins of the troll’s chest Bilbo gave to me before parting to Ered Luin? This was the room, where he was sleeping.”

“And?”

“Well, if he gave us this room… where’s he sleeping now?”


	11. Sharing Laughs

When Nori and Dwalin entered the dining room they found the table full of delicious food. Thorin and Bilbo were sitting side by side, his plates empty and waiting for them.

Dwalin hastyly sat in front of Thorin, beaming at him like mad.

Thorin raised his brow and held his friend’s gaze until he sighed deeply.

“So… I can see you’re happier,” Thorin said, smirking. Dwalin showed him his teeth.

“A good bath is the best after long days on the road,” Bilbo said casually. The three dwarves stared at the hobbit with wide eyes while he took a thick steak to cut it in small pieces. “I know it’s a little bit earlier for dinner, but I thought you would be hungry.”

Bilbo finished the cutting and replaced his plate with Thorin’s. Only then he noticed the dwarves staring at him. “What?”

Thorin snorted and began to eat the meat with his good hand while Nori and Dwalin were howling and clapping. Bilbo ignored them and served Thorin and himself some mashed potatoes.

“So… how are things at the Blue Mountains?” Thorin asked when Nori and Dwalin finished their outburst.

“Lord Nazur’s sons are arranging the caravans, as your lady sister disposed. They are doing a great work, those two. Maybe they’re not good for fighting but they have good brains. Lord Udalag and Lagabul are assisting them.”

Thorin nodded while he was eating the food Bilbo placed on his plate. He looked at Nori and noticed the pain in his face, knowing he was thinking that those people had paid for Dwalin to be beaten. He would talk with his friend’s lover the next day.

“Some dwarves of Ered Luin have visited Bag End,” Bilbo said.

Dwalin stilled, looking at Thorin with worry.

“The first time I was worried too, but they had been sent by Dís. She had sent some things to me,” Thorin explained. “After that seems that all caravans wanted to stop at the Shire, to know the Hobbit of Erebor,” he added with such pride.

“Oh,” Bilbo complained, all blushed.

“I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all,” Dwalin said. “Somebody could see you…”

“Usually they didn’t even enter my smial, and Thorin’s always invisible, with my ring on his finger,” Bilbo complained.

“Well, I don’t like it. It’s not safe,” Dwalin insisted.

“Nobody at the Blue Mountains seemed to resent Thorin,” Nori said, placing his hand on Dwalin’s shoulder. “And of course all the dwarves of the Blue Mountains wanted to see Bilbo; Lady Dís did a good work spreading the great deeds of the Hobbit of Erebor.”

That seemed to calm Dwalin, who chuckled at the memory of so many praises about the hobbit.

“If you could see them, Thorin, all speaking about him as if he was royalty among the halflings,” Dwalin roared.

“I’m just here, you know,” Bilbo complained.

“You would adore the attention. I bet Lord Udalag will come too when he will go to Erebor. With his son Salag, the lad couldn’t stop asking me about you, Bilbo. Do you remember him, Thorin?” Dwalin teased his friend, knowing well how he felt about the hobbit. “He’s grown up this last year; he’s now as tall as me, even though he’s thinner.”

Dwalin laughed at Thorin’s bitter face. As he was far from his friend and he couldn’t clap his back, he kicked his boot trying to meet Thorin’s one.

“Ouch!” Thorin whined.

Dwalin frowned at his friend and took a look under the table.

“Thorin. You’re barefoot,” Dwalin said, stunned.

“I know,” Thorin said, smiling.

“As you should be!” Bilbo shouted. “I had to clean all the mud on the floor.”

Dwalin stared at the hobbit while he was about to service Thorin more mashed potatoes. Instead of telling him he had had enough, his friend just stopped Bilbo’s hand with what seemed a gentle and practiced caress.

Nori looked at his lover and shook his head, smiling at his astonished face.

After dinner they relaxed in Bilbo’s living room, smoking before the fireplace.

Thorin and Bilbo were on _their_ loveseat while Dwalin sat on Bilbo’s sofa. Nori was at his feet, leaning his back against his legs. He hadn’t braided his hair and now Dwalin was enjoying its feeling between his fingers.

Dwalin smiled at Thorin when he saw him staring at them with a pout.

“Are you still hungry, Thorin?” Dwalin asked. He winked at him, knowing well what kind of meat Thorin longed for. The hobbit’s meat. Maybe it was not kind mocking his friend and king, but Dwalin had endured months of sighs and complains, a small payback was just fair.

“I’ll bring you some biscuits,” Bilbo said.

Nori couldn’t help a burst of laughter.

“I’m fine, Bilbo.” Thorin stopped him when was about to stand up. Then he raised his feet and put them on Bilbo’s lap. He wiggled his toes until Bilbo sighed and began to rub his left foot.

“I do want biscuits,” Dwalin said, looking at them with an incredulous face.

“Take them yourself,” Thorin snapped at him before closing his eyes and relaxing against the couch.

Dwalin didn’t go to the pantry, instead he just stared at how Bilbo was pouring some oil from a bottle —he hadn’t noticed where the hobbit got it— on both Thorin’s feet.

“What are you doing?” Nori finally asked.

“Rubbing his feet,” Bilbo casually answered. “Dwarves’ feet are so delicate…”

“We dwarves aren’t delicate,” Dwalin objected. “Anywhere.”

Bilbo didn’t answer him, because he was so focused on kneading the dwarf’s soles. Thorin’s mouth was opened, his head tilted backwards with his eyes still closed. Dwalin felt uncomfortable, his friend seemed about to moan in pleasure.

“Looks good,” Nori whispered.

“It is, believe me,” Thorin answered, without opening his eyes.

“I also could do yours, if you want,” Bilbo offered with a kind smile, noticing how Nori was looking at them with an enthralled face.

“No, you can’t!” Thorin roared.

At the same time, Dwalin also roared; “No way!”

“It’s not a big thing!” Bilbo said, outraged. “After all, it’s a simple foot rub.”

Dwalin met Thorin’s eyes and shook his head. That wasn’t looking at all _simple_. And he was the only one who got to touch Nori’s feet.

“If you do want a rubdown, I’ll rub your feet,” Dwalin said to his lover.

“Just my feet?” Nori asked him with his most teasing smirk, before standing up gracefully. He winked to Bilbo before going to their room. Dwalin quickly followed him.

“Good night!” Bilbo shouted. Someone grunted from the hallway. “I don’t know why you always have to misconstrue my words. Now why are you laughing at me?” Thorin took the hobbit's hand and placed it on his rigid groin. “Thorin!” Bilbo hissed. “They are just in the next room!”

“Believe me; they will be soon too busy to care about us.”

“But… my hands are all oiled. I’ll stain your breeches…”

“Usually you don’t complain so when it’s my cock you’re oiling,” Thorin teased him. Grabbing Bilbo’s wrist, he opened his breeches and put the smaller hand inside. He moaned at the warm and slippery sensation. “This is what you do to me when you rub my feet. Your touch is not simple, Bilbo, nothing like, no matter the part of my body you’re touching. I’ve been hard every night since the first time you massaged my feet.”

“Thorin! How can you think about that when they…?”

Someone cleared his throat then.

“Sorry, we’re in need of some oil,” Nori said, hardly holding his amusement at such a situation.

“Kitchen,” Bilbo let out, eyes wide and face as red as his prize-winner tomatoes. “Ssshh…” he said then to Thorin, who was laughing loudly. “Let me go!” he demanded, wriggling in a forced posture, almost on top of Thorin but with the dwarf’s legs still on top of his lap.

“Why? Now it’s too late for propriety. And I can see you want me too, Bilbo,” Thorin replied, rubbing his calf against the hobbit’s lap. He was trying to maintain a hold on Bilbo with just one hand, and it was not easy.

“So… Bilbo,” Nori casually said from the hallway. “I hope you don’t mind, but I took some biscuits for Dwalin. He gets ravenous when….”

“Take the damned biscuits and go fuck the Captain of my Royal Guard!”

“I heard that Thorin!” a voice yelled from the next room.

All dwarves laughed loudly, while Bilbo had given up and lay on top of his lover, hiding his face on his neck.

“So… the hobbit.”

Thorin jumped the next morning, finding Dwalin at his door first thing in the morning.

“Sssh… he’s still asleep, for once,” Thorin said, carefully shutting the door of their room behind him. He walked to the kitchen and then faced his friend. “How long are you going to tease me?”

“I don’t know. I listened to your whines for months, Thorin. Months,” Dwalin stated, reclining his back against the wall with crossing arms.

“I do not whine,” Thorin whined.

“He will never forgive me, Dwalin,” the guard impersonated his king. “He will never want me after what I did. He will never love me back.…”

“You can laugh now. But at least I can talk about my feelings,” Thorin retorted.

“I can talk about that, too.”

“Oh. You can now?” Thorin watched carefully at him. Definitely there was a certain serenity in him that was not just for the sex. “You can!” he roared, happy for his friend. Dwalin never had wanted to talk about his feelings, even though Thorin advised him so many times about defining the boundaries of his relationship with Nori.

“Shut up, Nori’s also sleeping.”

“You certainly tired him out yesterday, or so I heard…” Thorin teased him.

“I heard the Burglar too. So… he’s not as proper as we thought.…”

“If only you knew, Dwalin…” Thorin said dreamily.

“Well, tell me and I’ll know,” Dwalin required eagerly. “That thing with the feet was bloody amazing.”

Thorin smirked and nodded at his friend.

“No biscuits today, thanks to you. Bilbo has…” Thorin reached for a jar of jam, but the shelf was out reach of his left arm. “Mahal…” he muttered. Dwalin took the jar for him and put it on the table without saying a word. “I’m so tired of this damned arm. Bilbo’s always taking care of everything, and I tend to forget that I’m useless.”

“You’ll get better. You were so bad, Thorin,” Dwalin said dully. “I feared for your life,” he added, placing his hand on Thorin’s left shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, two friends that had lived so many things together. “Surely the wound on your belly is better, or you couldn’t have fucked the hobbit properly.”

When Bilbo entered the kitchen shortly after —muttering excuses for being a bad host—, he found both friends sharing laughs and bread with jam.


	12. Juncture

Three days later Dwalin and Nori departed for the Iron Hills.

After a fortnight Thorin was still missing his friend so much, especially after seeing him so happy in Nori’s arms. Nonetheless he was eager to see the end of this last danger of his life. He sure will miss his time at the Shire with Bilbo, but they will be happy at Erebor too. And Fíli will be safe at last, and Dwalin and Nori could play again guard and thief.

Thorin snorted, alone in Bag End. The cosy hobbit life was making him a dreamer.

When Nazur had turned up in Bag End, he had been about to greeting him. After all, he was the most trusted Lord of his sister and Thorin had seen the dwarf cry at his own funeral. But Bilbo wisely prompted him to do as they always did with visits; so he put the ring on and waited, invisible, for Bilbo’s return.

Lord Nazur had come right from Erebor, in passing to see his sons at the Blue Mountains. He asked for Bilbo to go to his wagon to retrieve the things Lady Dís had sent to him. Thorin was so eager to see what his sister had sent them that he had been about to follow them, if not for Bilbo closing the door right after he went out.

Thorin was astonished when he noticed that that had been an hour ago. An hour! Suddenly a bad taste came to his mouth from his revolted stomach….

“Bilbo,” he whispered through the empty walls of the smial.

Had he been a fool, trusting one dwarf when he had sworn to trust nobody out of his most inner circle? Had the cosy life at the Shire really made him so pathetic? Had he put Bilbo’s life at risk?

Thorin put the ring on and opened the door without bothering to check for possible witnesses. In that precise moment his fears multiplied and a cold rage invaded his body.

While he ran, Thorin’s mind was a storm. Nazur had said his wagon was at the borders of Hobbiton, near to the Bywater Bridge. But when he arrived there was no wagon in sight. Big wheel tracks haunted his mind. His eyes watered. He was out of breath. His body was no longer fit after weeks of inactivity and the rushed run had his muscles and lungs on fire.

Thorin went around Sandyman’s Mill and took out Bilbo’s ring. It was a dangerous threat, but he was mad with worry. He reached the principal road again and approached a young hobbit that was walking alone, “Beg your pardon,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “Have you seen a dwarfs’ wagon? I seem to have lost my caravan.”

“They departed an hour ago,” the hobbit answered politely, but with obvious fear in his voice. He watched Thorin carefully, his eyes wide when he noticed that the dwarf was wearing no boots.

“I was bathing in the river,” Thorin said instinctively. “Thanks, I’ll go fetch my boots” he added, not wanting to raise suspicions.

Thorin ran to the back of the Mill and he put the ring on once more. He didn’t stop until he reached Bag End.

“Bilbo!” he called, hoping to get a reply. “Bilbo, please!”

He checked all the rooms, the kitchen, the pantry.… He fell on his knees on the carpet in the lounge, their lounge, their carpet….

“Bilbo,” he sobbed. “How have I been such a fool?” he said aloud, needing to hear his guilt.

Thorin didn’t recognize himself. Where was the untrusting dwarf? Who was that silly character, dwarf in body with a hobbit mind? He chuckled when he saw the blood on his feet through tears of helplessness and fury. He was no hobbit.

Thorin had never understood hobbits, such a powerless and innocent people living in the heart of the forbidding Middle Earth. Well, now he knew. Even a harsh stubborn dwarf could become weak in that green land, thinking of nothing more than food and carnal pleasure.

He should have been strong, he should have remembered Dwalin’s bruises every day, his own wounds, Fíli risking his life every day on the throne which he should be occupying.

Thorin stood up and stared at the couch, _their_ couch.

Bilbo was not a weakness, Bilbo was his strength. Bilbo had been the one who insisted he take the ring, the one who shut the door in his face, surely saving him from….

Terrible images tainted his mind. Thorin shook his head and cleaned the tears on his face with his sleeve. He needed to clear his mind; it was not time to panic about Bilbo’s fate. It was time to take things in hand and save him.

Thorin put his boots on and took quite a big bag of coins.

This time he didn’t put the ring on, he just left Bag End trying to remember Bilbo’s comments on the day they went to the market. That seemed to have been from a different life.

Thorin didn’t knock on the Sackville-Baggins’ hole, he just opened the door and entered. He found them at the table, eating second breakfast.

“What are you doing here, dwarf? This is not Bilbo Baggins smial!” Otho yelled, standing up.

“Bofur!” Lobelia shouted, almost as shocked as her husband.

“Do you know this dwarf?” Otho asked. “You’re spending too much time with Bilbo!”

“I’m not Bofur, Lobelia. I’m Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain.”

“The King of Erebor,” Lobelia muttered, her hand on her mouth. She suddenly stood and bowed to the dwarf.

“Don’t, please. I prefer your sour-tempered comments,” Thorin said kindly. “You helped us dearly, Lobelia, but now I need your help more than ever; Bilbo’s in danger.”

Thorin left on the table the big bag he had been carrying and opened it, showing gold, silver and jewels. Otho fainted.


	13. Rivendell

The view from the window was remarkable, water running through the buildings, small waterfalls merging from staircases and trees growing in the middle of paths.

Rivendell. Thorin loathed the Last Homely House East of the Sea as much as he loathed elves. Now he was there, eating elvish food, and wearing elvish robes. And he didn’t mind his luck. All that mattered was Bilbo. He ate for Bilbo, he was living for Bilbo. He even was making efforts to see elves through Bilbo’s eyes. Without much success.

But he was thankful to Lord Elrond, who had offered his help without any questions or demands, even after how they had parted the last time Thorin had been at Rivendell. And thanks to Lord Elrond’s care as a healer his arm was better. He was regaining his strength; he barely could hold any weight but at least he could eat and dress without any help. He couldn’t bear the idea of someone who was not his Bilbo helping him.

“Thorin,” Elrond called at his door. Thorin noticed that the elf wasn’t displaying his usually unruffled demeanour, and that terrified him. “We have news of the Rangers of the North.”

“Tell me,” Thorin demanded, anxious.

“They finally found Lord Nazur on his way to the Blue Mountains, not in the Great East Road on his way to Erebor as we had thought.”

“Elrond, please,” Thorin begged. The recent stay had led him to appreciate de elf’s serene character and generosity, but he couldn’t stand a second more without knowing about Bilbo’s fate.

“Bilbo was not with him,” the elf stated gravely.

“That can’t be true! I saw them together! Many hobbits at Hobbiton saw Bilbo going into his wagon!”

“He denies that. Be calm, my friend,” Elrond whispered, taking Thorin’s right hand in his. As in every healing session, the dwarf felt his pain and anger deflate. But he was as worried as before. “Rangers are tough men, the last remnant of the Dúnedain. Not even a master of lies could fool them, and Lord Nazur is not one.” 

“So he lies,” Thorin said, letting go of his hand. The secretive talk of the elves irritated him.

“He lies, but we know no more for now. The Rangers are bringing him to us, they are a riding day from Rivendell. I can question the dwarf myself,” Elrond offered, more a question than a statement.

“I’ll do it,” Thorin said, after a few minutes.

“Certainly that will be more effective. But the risk.…”

“I’ll take the risk,” Thorin stated fervently.

“You’re not the only one at stake, Thorin Oakenshield,” Elrond said. After days of ignoring formalities, Thorin met the elf’s intense stare. “You surely know Erebor is an important piece of this dangerous game you’re playing. If you do uncover your false demise, you will lose your advantage.”

“So be it. I’ll not risk Bilbo’s life for the sake of Gandalf’s device.”

“Gandalf. Our mutual friend told me, not long ago, that you pronounced a similar sentence with a distinct meaning.”

The dwarf glared at the elf, who was staring him with a raised eyebrow. After merely seconds exchanging glances Elrond smiled and relaxed his pose noticeably.

Thorin felt as if he had passed a test he didn’t know he had taken.

“You’ve seen my future,” Thorin muttered, knowing Lord Elrond had the gift of foresight.

“Nothing clear, but I can tell you the images I discerned from you on your last visit are changed now,” Elrond said enigmatically.

“What changed?” Thorin asked, his voice begging and not demanding.

“Are you sure you want to know? No fate is a certain thing, as you can see. Little chances could change the course of a whole life.”

“Aye, I want to know what lies ahead.”

“Bilbo,” Elrond simply said, smiling kindly. Thorin beamed at him in return.

“And he wasn’t part of my future last time you saw?”

“Last time you had no future, Thorin.”

Thorin gasped.

“You have no right to keep me here, Lord Elrond! I’ll not answer any of your questions, after the way those men treated me. Me! A Lord of Erebor!”

“You are Lord Nazur, son of Dazur; Lord of Ered Luin, Betrayer of Erebor,” a voice said behind the dwarf.

Nazur slowly turned around, to find his late King in front of him, wearing a splendid elvish tunic, bearing imposing and majestic… and alive.

The dwarf took a step and fell on his knees. Nazur seized the hem of Thorin’s tunic and remained at Thorin’s feet, facing the floor and trembling.

Thorin thought the dwarf was crying, and when Nazur raised his head he saw indeed tears on his face. But he was not crying, he was laughing.

“My King… I’m so glad you’re alive!” Nazur said visibly touched.

Lord Elrond went to Thorin and stood at his back, attentively studying Lord Nazur’s expression.

“And yet you were behind those who made an attempt against my life,” Thorin replied severely, still taken aback by the betrayal of his sister’s most loyal Lord.

“I’m not going to deny that, Your Majesty. But please… my sons don’t know about my shame. Nobody in my family or in all the Blue Mountains is guilty of treason but me,” the dwarf said, standing up and bowing deeply.

“Where is Bilbo Baggins?” Thorin asked harshly.

“The hobbit… he’s in _their_ hands now. I’m sorry Your Majesty,” Nazur said, seeming truly sincere. “I know your Lady sister appreciates him dearly, but they forced me to kidnap him. They threatened to kill my son’s.”

“Where’s he now? Why did they want the hobbit?” Thorin demanded.

“I only know that he was going to be taken to Erebor. I don’t know why.”

“Who are _they_?” Elrond asked wisely.

“The Lords of the Iron Hills. I don’t know their names, or how many of them are in the scheme. They’re smart, and vicious. I only financed them. You must believe me, Your Majesty, I didn’t know they were going to attempt against your life. They only said to me that they were going to ban you to reign and put Dáin on the Throne of the Lonely Mountain. When I found they were trying to kill Your Majesty… it was too late for withdrawing my support. They threatened my family for the first time after I reproached them for the first attempt to your life. I’m not trying to justify my wrongs, but telling the truth.”

“Why?” Thorin demanded in a tired and sad tone of voice.

Nazur chuckled, the first disrespectful gesture he made before the King.

“Greed, pride, jealousy. I was an old fool acting like a spoiled child, now I know. When I arrived at Erebor with Lady Dís I thought I was going to be rewarded for years of loyal service. Instead I found I was out of the Royal Council, after years of being a principal member at Ered Luin. But the worst was when I knew that my place was being occupied by… miners, tinkers and toymakers.”

“When I called upon the dwarves of the Blue Mountain, only they came. They suffered the inclement road by my side and they fought bravely when it was required. I owe them our ancestral home. You could have gone to the quest and shared the glory you coveted so,” Thorin reproached.

“I’m just an old dwarf!”

“Óin and Balin are older. And you could have sent your sons in your place.”

“They’re not warriors!”

“Neither are the miners, tinkers and toymakers that you despise. We had even a scribe… and a hobbit,” Thorin replied, whispering the last name.

“My sons are my dearest treasure… I feared for their lives,” Nazur said, ashamed and subdued.

“I love my nephews as if they were my own sons. Did you think I feared not for their lives? Thankfully all the members of the Company survived,” Thorin stated with pride.

“Yes, I know. Thanks to that hobbit I condemned with my cowardice,” Nazur recognized. “I’ll subdue to any punishment Your Majesty sees fit for my crimes.”

Thorin snorted and turned around, facing one of the walls. He knew about foolish acts committed for greed, he was not ready to judge Lord Nazur when his own faults were so fresh. He couldn’t forget the fear, the pain of his wounds, the terrible uncertainly about Bilbo’s fate. But for a moment, he thought that things would be different between Bilbo and him, if not for having needed refuge at the Shire.

“If you don’t know who they are, by what means did they contact you?” Lord Elrond asked at Thorin’s back.

“They sent me a middledwarf, a minor dwarf of the Iron Hills. I think he was a miner there. I barely know his name, or at least the name he gave to me; Mabach.”

“You never talked with any other dwarf?” Nazur shook his head to the elf. “So this Mabach was the one who took Mister Baggins to Erebor?” Nazur nodded. Elrond looked at Thorin, but the dwarf was still giving them his back. The elf sighed and opened the door to call his guards. “Take Lord Nazur to a secured room,” he ordered.

“Your Majesty,” Nazur said, seeing Thorin wasn’t going to face him. “I know it changes nothing, but I regret the day they saw my resentment and contacted me. I should have said no and reported them.”

“But you didn’t,” Thorin said, finally turning around.

Nazur, noticing his red eyes, bowed deeply before following the elvish guard.

“What are you going to do?” Elrond asked when they were finally alone.

“I’m going to send a message to Dwalin with that name, I’m sure Nori will know something about him soon. Meanwhile I’m going to Erebor on my own, if you would be so gracious to help one more time and lend me a pony.”

“The pony is yours, but please, give me one day. I fear you’re not well enough for such a journey.”

“And some hours will change that?” Thorin asked incredulously.

Thorin understood Elrond’s request when the next day he saw an imposing figure approaching Rivendell riding a silvery-grey horse; Gandalf.

As he did on his way to the Shire, Thorin travelled to Erebor with the wizard, this time on his own pony; a beautiful brown creature.

Before their departure, Elrond made them promise that they would enlighten him the moment they knew something about Bilbo. The elvish lord asked Thorin for another thing, one that piqued Gandalf’s interest. He bid for Thorin’s and Bilbo’s return to Rivendell, when everything was settled. He insisted particularly that they would carry Bilbo’s ring with them.

“Why do they want Bilbo?” Thorin asked the first night. They were resting around the fire, once Gandalf convinced the dwarf that they needed to stop, at least for the beasts’ sake. “I know my sister spread word that he is dear to the Royal family, but I can’t understand why they crossed Eriador just to take him.”

“Maybe they want to bargain his life,” Gandalf said, exhaling the smoke of his pipe.

“I thought so. But if that was their goal it would have been easier to kidnap any other member of the Company. Why choose Bilbo?” Thorin asked again.

“You’re worried about him,” Gandalf stated, studying the dwarf across the fire with his wise old eyes.

“Of course I’m worried! I put him in danger, once again. He offered me shelter, he was kind to me….”

“He was? I didn’t see much kindness before I parted from Bag End….”

“Well, he changed… afterwards. We both changed. He took care of me, every day; helping me dressing, healing my wounds, feeding me. We grew closer day after day.…”

“You care for our hobbit,” Gandalf muttered, as if he was talking to himself. “No, it’s more than that…” he added, suddenly with his eyes wide open.

“Aye. I do love him,” Thorin confessed, sighing deeply after he had said the words.

“Are you sure?” Gandalf asked, pouting and frowning. “Is it love? Or is it gratitude?”

Thorin snorted, remembering Bilbo’s words the day they had made love for the first time. That day that seemed so far away.

“Do you really think I would have used him?”

“You can’t deny this is… unexpected. And sudden.”

This time Thorin laughed bitterly.

“Believe me, Gandalf, this wasn’t unexpected at all. To my knowledge, at least four dwarves from the Company knew about my feelings for Bilbo, maybe even before I was aware of them.”

“Are you telling me that you fell for Bilbo during the quest?” Gandalf asked. He sat up straight against the tree he was leaning on, dumbfounded. He usually had good eye for noticing these things.

“I don’t know precisely when,” Thorin said dreamily. He looked up at the stars and smiled warmly. “I definitely liked what I saw the first time I arrived at Bag End.”

“Well, you certainly hid it well,” Gandalf teased.

“I was nervous! I came from Ered Luin empty-handed from the meeting with dwarves from all seven kingdoms. I was lost, and then I found you had chosen the smallest burglar I had seen in all my life! The most ridiculous creature; short, wearing a flimsy shirt with ridiculous braces, messy honey curls, elvish pointed ears, barefoot…” For a moment Thorin was lost in Bilbo’s memories, ones about the prissy hobbit he had been that distant day, and others about _his_ Bilbo, the one who used to rub his own bare feet. Gandalf’s snort woke him up from his reverie. “I felt something that night, but didn’t want to believe it. I’m ashamed now, but at the time I couldn’t believe Mahal had paired me with such a weak creature. Now that I know how brave and strong he really is….”

“So you fell for him when he risked his life for to save yours,” Gandalf guessed.

“No, I think I fell for him when he was talking about the best way to cook dwarves.” The both of them shared a good laugh. “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing; the small thing, so clever and sneaky, tricking those monsters who could eat him in one mouthful.”

“As I recall, you didn’t give him any credit, that day,” Gandalf said, smirking.

“No, I didn’t. It wasn’t until later when I understood why the halfling really irritated me so.”

“And when was that?”

“At Rivendell. I wanted to believe that I was following him because I didn’t trust him, but in fact I was doing it because I was feeling protective of him. He was wandering around, his big blue eyes looking at everything with such wonder… I was jealous. I thought _‘That’s because he prefers elves to dwarves’_ , but then he met Lord Elrond in a balcony and the blasted elf offered him to stay with them, with him. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore after having felt the green monster in my chest, because of their looks and smiles. That’s why I treated him so badly that very night after the stone giant battle. That’s why I was angry with him for having risked his life, but I couldn’t help but embrace him afterwards.”

“What happened at Erebor?”

“You know what happened. I heard Lord Elrond warning you about the sickness that runs in my family. It seems I was as bad as my grandfather and I chose a jewel over love.”

“But after the Battle you woke up from the dragon sickness. Why did you maintain Bilbo’s exile, if you loved him? You didn’t even let him see you before departing.”

“I was ashamed and terrified of rejection at the same time. I finally opted for letting him go, always thinking of coming back to the Shire to fight for him. But then _they_ attempted against my life and I couldn’t leave, putting Fíli in danger.”

For a while they were lost in their own thoughts, sharing a comfortable silence broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“I’m in debt to you, Wizard,” Thorin suddenly said. “When you found me in the Prancing Pony I was just looking for my father. Now my people are returning to their ancestral home. But more than that, I need to thank you for leading me to Bilbo’s green door.”

“You’re welcome my friend,” Gandalf nodded, smiling kindly. “I chose well. I chose well, indeed,” he said thoughtfully. “Surely Bilbo’s fine, nobody can harm such a pure soul,” Gandalf said, noticing Thorin’s dark thoughts in his grievous face. “We’ll find him soon.”

“I hope so. I need to tell him something,” Thorin said dreamily. “I didn’t tell him that I loved him. At least not with those words.”

They rested in front of the fire, both of them thinking about Bilbo for different reasons.


	14. Erebor at last

Before Thorin and Gandalf reached Erebor they found a small welcome party riding to them.

As soon as Thorin dismounted he had his arms full of nephew.

“Kíli!” Glóin roared at his back. “His wounds!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Thorin whispered on his nephew’s neck. He had missed his family so much, all of them. “Are you taller now?” he added, stepping back to look at him at length. He sighed deeply when he almost didn’t recognize the stunning dwarf prince before him. “You’re wearing braids. Your mother finally took you in hand.”

“It’s not mother, it’s Fíli! He’s a tyrant!” Kíli complained with an outraged tone of voice, but beaming all the same.

“Keep it low, laddie, we don’t want unwanted attention,” Gandalf said, approaching the dwarves and clapping young Gimli’s shoulder.

Thorin embraced then Glóin and his son. He also greeted Ori, who went quite red.

“Balin wanted to come, but people would have asked questions.”

“Do you know something about _that_ dwarf?” Thorin hissed at his cousin.

“Mabach returned two days ago,” Glóin answered gravely.

“Have you followed him unnoticed, as I required?” Gandalf asked.

“Aye, Ori and I did it!” Gimli shouted, placing his arm on Ori’s shoulder. The dwarf blushed again.

“But we began yesterday, when your note arrived,” Glóin explained.

“Bofur helped us. But… he didn’t contact any of the Lords of the Iron Hills that are still in the mountain,” Gimli added.

“Nothing unexpected, even a meeting with dwarves from Ered Luin?” Gandalf asked. He hadn’t believed Lord Nazur completely.

“In fact, it was odd but he talked with nobody since he came back from… his travel,” Ori said, looking at Thorin’s distressed face. “Nobody welcomed him, he seems to live alone in the lower district.”

“Let’s go to the mountain, mum is eager to see you,” Kíli said, smiling.

Thorin nodded and sighed; he wasn’t ready for flippant greetings, when Bilbo was nowhere to be found.

It was strange crossing the mountain hiding behind a cloak. He was glad to be in Erebor, but now its stone walls were warm no more for him.

Before the ambush at Dale his main thoughts were for the mountain; rebuilding it, leading his people, re-establishing old alliances. Bilbo was always in his mind, like a throbbing pain in his heart, but a far aim that he could only prize in his times alone.

Now Bilbo was all he could think about as he walked through his kingdom, not just for the danger, Thorin was still feeling the hobbit on his body, under his skin. The sole idea of sleeping without him every night was painful. That was more important than how Fíli was ruling Erebor.

When they finally got to his rooms, they found the rest of the Company waiting for his arrival, except Fíli, Dís and Balin who were attending a Royal audience, and Bofur who was following Mabach.

Óin insisted in examining him. He couldn’t believe how well he was healing, and Thorin was not pleased when Gandalf gave Lord Elrond all the credit.

“It was Bilbo who took care of me day after day, when I was at my worst. He healed me, he fed and he even cleaned me. I was such a burden,” Thorin snorted, and Kíli looked at Gandalf noticing that that had been more a sob than a snort.

“Thorin!” Dís exclaimed, breaking the strange atmosphere in the room.

She ran to her brother but stopped just a step before him. When Thorin smiled and opened his _two_ arms she hugged him, snivelling.

“I’m well, sister,” Thorin whispered in her ear. He tried to disentangle from her, but she tightened her embrace.

“Shut up, the last time I saw you, you were a walking corpse that had been lying for a while in a tomb,” she complained.

“I haven’t said a word,” Thorin muttered, smiling in her arms.

“You were thinking it,” she replied, finally stepping back to look at him. Thorin raised his shoulders, he couldn’t say aye when Bilbo was still lost for him. When he flinched at the stabbing pain in his right arm, Dís made him sit in his own room.

Fíli then knelt at his feet, putting his crowned head on his uncle’s lap.

“Shouldn’t it be me at your feet, my King?” Thorin joked. Fíli chuckled, but didn’t move. His uncle caressed his hair, knowing that Fíli had been who had suffered more since he had faked his death. The young dwarf did so well, and he deserved a calm moment between the only people he could really trust.

“Thorin.” This time was Thorin who had no words for his relative, mentor and friend. But as always, no words were needed between them. “How is my brutish brother?” Balin asked, sounding nonchalant for everybody but Thorin. “I heard that he wasn’t well received at the Blue Mountains.”

“He was bruised, but you do know him, he got over it. Furthermore, he was in good company,” Thorin stated, solemnly looking at Dori and his brother.

Ori blushed under the intense stare, proud of his brother, who the very king held in high regard.

“I’m sorry, but I need to go relieve Bofur,” Ori said shyly.

“Tell him where we are,” Fíli said, gracefully standing up in his regal attire. Thorin saw the nobility of him, and his chest swelled in pride. “Now, uncle… what do you want to do with _that_ dwarf? We could extend his surveillance but with each passing day…”

“I’m not going to risk Bilbo’s life,” Thorin stated. He looked around and saw his Company nodding, all of them agreeing with him. Perhaps not the Wizard.

“I advise caution, Thorin,” Gandalf said, walking to the middle of the room, his height imposing, his Wizardly demeanor commanding. “Don’t lose your advantage, the main goal is to discover all the schemers.”

“The main goal is to save Bilbo’s life,” Thorin replied. He stood with determination.

“You could condemn yourself and the whole mountain with the wrong decision,” Gandalf insisted.

Pandemonium broke out in the room; Kíli’s keen voice, Bifur’s guttural yells… until Thorin bellowed with his deep voice; “ _Shazara_! I myself will interrogate Mabach. He’ll talk,” he stated, wanting to believe things will be fine.

“Uncle, I fear for Bilbo too, but Gandalf is right; we need to know how many dwarves are involved to finish with the menace,” Fíli said.

“Already tired of being king?” Thorin asked, smirking.

“I’m only doing this for you; Erebor is not mine,” Fíli murmured.

“It is now and it will be yours again. The Throne of Erebor is your birthright. You are bearing the burden very well Thorin said affectionately, caressing the end of one of his nephew’s braids.

Fíli looked at Balin —surely the one who had praised him to Thorin— and blushed at the dwarf’s proud gaze. Kíli saw the red in his face run to his brother, embracing him with one arm, hugging his uncle with the other.

“A glass of water would be much appreciated,” Gandalf said, giving the royal family a bit of privacy. “Neither would I decline a little bit of wine, the road made me thirsty.”

Even Balin went to the table on the attached parlour of the room, where Dori served the beverages that had been discreetly prepared for the return of the king.

“Has a dwarrowdame no place with the Durins?” Dís asked when her brother, seeing they were alone at last, hugged his nephews tighter.

She was glad that Thorin had forged a deeper relationship with her sons during the quest, but these months she had also missed her brother badly, especially after having seen him so gravely wounded.

Thorin let go of Fíli and brought her into their collective embrace, allowing himself a small moment of joy at being finally reunited with his family.

“It’s been so hard?” Thorin asked Fíli when they broke the embrace.

“Without you? Aye. But I was not alone. Balin really did the hardest work, and mum was ever at my side. Even Kíli has been helpful,” Fíli teased, even when his fond stare spoke another song. “Have you seen his braids?”

“If you got Kíli to braid his hair, I’m sure ruling the mountain has been child’s play,” Thorin said, smiling. “Maybe I’ll let you rule after all this ends.”

“What you really want is to abdicate and go back to the Shire,” Kíli teased his uncle with bright eyes and a big smile. When he saw Thorin’s cunning smile, he added, “So you really liked… the Shire.”

“I certainly will not miss the Shire… if Bilbo stays with me as he said he would do,” Thorin confessed with a sad smile, praying Mahal that Bilbo could finally choose.

“Brother! You didn’t bring it up in your letters!” Dís said happily. Then she suddenly remembered Bilbo was lost, and grabbed Thorin’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I’ve thought so much about my part in it… if I hadn't spread word about him.…”

Thorin pouted thoughtfully and put his hand on hers.

“Fate is unknown, you know it well. If they hadn’t known about Bilbo, they would have taken any other member of the Company. Maybe you.…”

“You really believe this will end well,” Fíli said.

“I need to think that, or I’ll break,” Thorin confessed.

His sister embraced him, and this time her sons left them alone.

“So… he _really_ took care of you,” Dís teased him, wanting to ease his soul.

“You don’t know how well…” he said dreamily.

“Thorin!”

“Silly! I just mean that he was wonderful with me, even after what I did to him. He took care of me without complaints. He did the little things I couldn’t do for myself and I never had to ask him for anything, he always seemed to know what I needed before I knew myself.”

“I was looking forward to knowing him,” Dís sadly said.

“You’ll meet him. Soon,” Thorin said, hugging his sister. He needed the comfort too.

The knock on the door caught them still embracing

“Go to the parlour, I’ll open the door,” Balin said, passing them.

When he returned to the parlour, he was with Bofur.

“I almost didn’t recognise you,” Thorin said, surprised at the dwarf’s changes.

“It’s just the hair, and the hat,” Bofur replied. And after bowing at Thorin, he took his eternal hat and put it over his upbraided hair. “But that means Mabach won't recognise me, either.”

To everyone’s surprise, and especially for Bofur, Thorin approached the dwarf and hugged him, as he hadn’t done with his brother and cousin.

“For a while, at the Shire, I bore your name,” Thorin confessed. Bofur stared at him as if he had gone mad. “Bilbo had to give a name for me, and yours was the one which came to his mouth. He holds you in high esteem,” he said, studying carefully his reaction.

“As I care for him,” Bofur stated, lacking his usual smile.

Thorin clenched his teeth at Bofur’s chosen words, helpless to resist the old sensation of jealousy spreading inside him.

“Not more than I do,” Thorin retorted. The room was suddenly uncomfortably silent.

“If you really care for him, what are we doing here talking and drinking?” Bofur asked angrily.

“How dare you! I’ve just arrived! I wanted to fetch Mabach…” Thorin shouted.

“Bofur, did Mabach talk with anybody in your shift?” asked Gimli. His good sense and his innocent voice stopped the roaring.

“No. He only went to the market and asked for prices,” Bofur answered.

“Gimli, take Fíli’s guards and bring Mabach here,” Thorin ordered.

“No, Thorin,” Fíli said. Gimli stilled, looking from one king to the other. “Don’t rush things, uncle, we were talking….”

“Give us one night, Thorin,” Gandalf requested. “We want to trick him, lure him into a trap. But we need time for that.”

“Tell me more about that plan,” Thorin said.

Dori served Thorin and Bofur a pint of ale, while Dís insisted that Thorin have a seat.

“We are going to send Balin to Mabach with an official summons to tomorrow’s Royal audience,” Gandalf expounded.

“It has to be Balin?” Thorin asked, worried for his friend.

“Dori will accompany me, we’ll be fine,” Balin said, smiling at the strongest dwarf of all the Company, even his own brother.

“Any other dwarf wouldn’t worry Mabach,” Fíli said. “Balin is my voice.”

“And you do want to worry him? What of Bilbo?” Bofur asked heatedly.

“That would be most interesting, yes” Gandalf said. “If Mabach gets nervous it’s more probable that he will make a mistake and try to contact his superior.”

“And we will be there, following him,” Bofur finally understood. “I like the idea, I want to be the one on watch.”

“Aren’t you tired?” Bombur asked to his brother. “You just finished your shift.”

Bofur shook his head, smiling to his brother. “I’m not going to leave Bilbo’s life in other’s hands,” he whispered.

Thorin heard that and frowned.

“I’ll do it,” Thorin said, shocking everybody.

“You can’t! You just arrived from a hard trip!” Dís exclaimed.

“I’m the most suitable dwarf for the work. I have Bilbo’s ring, after all. I can be invisible, can you do that?” He confronted Bofur, who scowled at him.

“In fact, I was thinking that you could lend the ring to Bofur… or the one on watch,” Gandalf said, watching carefully how Thorin was putting his hand on the pocket of his tunic and let it there, as if he was caressing something.

“I couldn’t! It’s Bilbo’s ring!” Thorin exclaimed.

“I would handle it with care,” Bofur said seriously, knowing that with the ring his work would be easier.

Gandalf whispered something in Dís’ ear and the dwarrowdam took the ring from Thorin’s pocket. The wizard feared Thorin’s reaction, but he just glared at his sister for a moment, and then his look lost his sudden ire. Gandalf frowned at that, caressing his long beard, deep in thoughts, remembering the conversation he had had with Elrond before leaving Rivendell.

“Bofur knows Mabach and he worries for Bilbo,” Dís kindly said to Thorin. “He’ll do a good job following him,” she reassured her distressed brother.

“And what if Mabach doesn’t contact anybody?” Gimli asked, having spent that same morning waiting for the dwarf to make a move.

“Then nobody will prevent me from questioning him,” Thorin said.


	15. Tragedy

In the end, Mabach didn’t fall into the trap.

The next day, everything was ready in the Throne Room of Erebor.

Mabach was taken to the Royal audience by the Royal guards. Afterward, they went away, leaving the King protected by a wizard and almost all his Company surrounding him.

“My thanks for receiving me, Your Highness,” Mabach said, as if it had been he who had asked audience of the king.

“This is not a formal hearing, dwarf,” Fíli harshly said, standing up from the Throne. “We know who you really are. We know what you did, what your superiors did.”

The dwarf stilled, but didn’t say a word. He avoided Fíli’s gaze, looking over him at the Arkenstone that glowed in its rightful place since that very night. Mabach frowned, but otherwise his face didn’t show any other emotion.

“You're not going to deny it?” Fíli asked.

“I have nothing to say to Your Highness,” Mabach coolly stated.

“We shall see,” said a voice behind the line of dwarves.

Thorin stepped out from behind the throne, adorned in fine clothing, crown on his head.

Mabach was aghast. His weather-beaten face was the embodiment of rage, wide eyes and scowling so much that he was showing his teeth. He took a step to Thorin, but immediately Dori took another in his direction, menacingly swinging his bolos.

“You…” Mabach spat.

“Yes, I’m alive,” Thorin said without a hint of arrogance. “In spite of you and your… people. But I’ll be kind, if you do your part. We know you’ve been a mere pawn in this conspiracy. Say their names and I’ll keep that in mind when I sentence all of you.”

Mabach continued glaring at Thorin, mouth closed in a thin line.

“Lord Nazur is being held in a Rivendell gaol. We know the Lords of the Iron Hills are involved in the scheme,” Gandalf said, letting go small pieces of information, as if he was playing with the dwarf.

“You’re a wizard but you know nothing, Tharkûn,” Mabach bitterly replied.

“Tell us about the hobbit,” Thorin said. “Where is he?”

“I know of no hobbit.”

“Liar!” Thorin roared.

For a moment Mabach seemed surprised by Thorin’s reaction. He took a step, then another, ignoring Dori’s growls and the scowls of the rest dwarves.

Looking closely at Thorin’s face, he viciously said; “The skin of a hobbit is so smooth… sadly, it bruises so easily.…”

Mabach’s body language gradually changed as Thorin’s did. While Thorin’s eyes widened in horror and anger, Mabach’s shorter body relaxed until he was beaming calmly; a terrifying smirk that Gandalf read as a danger signal.

When Gandalf reached Thorin he was about to beat Mabach, but the wizard stopped him, grabbing the coarse tunic.

“What have you done to the hobbit?” Fíli asked, worriedly looking at his uncle’s bloodshot eyes.

“They are keeping him?” Thorin mumbled, Gandalf behind him.

“Who are _'they'_?” Mabach mocked Thorin. “All the Lords are the same scum; Lords from Erebor or the Lords of the Iron Hills. The only thing that moves them is riches. Dáin is a better Lord, but that’s only because there’s no gold in the Iron Hills.”

“Dáin will never rule the Lonely Mountain,” Balin stated.

“That was never my goal. Yes, my goal; there were no lords on _my_ plan, I’m the only one conspirator. My mind and Lord Nazur’s coin. I just wanted to ruin your life,” he hissed Thorin. “Yours and your nephews’.”

“Why?” Kíli asked, shocked.

“And why not? I have nothing to lose. I was a humble miner at the Iron Hills, but I was happy. I had lost my wife, but my two sons were my main reason for living. Then you, Thorin Oakenshield, asked Dáin for help because men and elves coveted your gold. We were summoned, and my sons died. I _saw_ my son die. Do you know how?” Mabach bitterly asked. Thorin, who had turned ashen and was beginning a cold sweat, shook his crowned head. “Azog the Defiler cut off his head. And the worst was that the orc didn’t even look at him, he slew my son, blood of my blood, as if he was nothing. My strong son was barely a pebble in his way to the Durins,” he sadly ended.

“That beast also beheaded my grandfather,” said Thorin.

“Aye, your grandfather, who couldn’t content himself with a simple settlement in the Blue Mountains. Thrór brought his people to bloodshed because there was Mithril in Moria. If you had stayed at Ered Luin, Thorin Oakenshield, so many people would be alive now. Including Laketown inhabitants.”

“Bilbo Baggins is a good hobbit. He’s not guilty of my sins,” Thorin muttered.

“I know, I know. Such a sweet creature, that hobbit. And so loyal to you, I still don’t understand why. But he’s going to die. Isn’t that a pity? My sons were also innocents that died for the deeds of others. It is fitting that that hobbit you appreciate so much is going to end just like my son did.”

“Please,” Thorin begged. “Don’t let him die.”

Mabach drank from Thorin’s agonizing expression and beamed like mad.

“I’m going to do nothing to him. I just happen to be the only one who knows where he is in this very moment. But remember this, Thorin Oakenshield; you’re the one who is going to let him die. A slow and agonizing death….”

After a mocking bow, Mabach broke for the narrow passage and threw himself into the void, right to the deeps of Erebor.

Not even Gandalf could stop him.

“Nooooo!”

Thorin's cry of despair resounded into the mountain.


	16. The cave

“Please Thorin, eat something,” Dís insisted. “You can’t go looking for Bilbo in this state.”

“If he doesn’t eat, neither I do,” Thorin answered.

“You don’t know that, maybe Mabach let him enough food for a few days. Or maybe he was lying and he had an associate,” Fíli said, guiltily looking at Balin. They had talked about that and conclude that it was unlikely that the dwarf would trust anybody.

“We will find him soon, everybody is looking for him!” Kíli added.

“When? Where? There’s a whole mountain to search, and we’re not even sure Mabach brought him into Erebor,” Thorin said.

“There’s still time, it has only been a day. And we were shadowing him since just the day before. He’s alive, brother, he needs to be.”

“May Mahal hear you. We certainly went through worse at Mirkwood,” Thorin hoped. “Is Thranduil helping us with the search?”

“He is, and Bard and his people too,” Balin said.

“Now, eat something before returning to the search,” Dís insisted again.

This time Thorin obeyed and took some cured ham.

“You should wait here for news. Anyway, you are being detained at every step,” Kíli said.

“The dwarves of Erebor are glad to have recovered their king,” Fíli explained.

“They have had a king. A good king,” Thorin stated, fondly looking at his blushing nephew.

Thorin barely had eaten when Bofur entered the parlour.

“We have news from Dale,” the dwarf excitedly said, without even greeting them. “Dwalin and Nori have come back from the Iron Hills with some information about Mabach. They have an address, I think, a storehouse he used for trading.”

“He’s there!” Thorin cried.

“We don’t know that for sure, Thorin…” Balin protested, not being the first false trail they had followed.

“Gandalf is waiting for me on his horse, we’re going to ride together,” Bofur informed. “I just wanted you to know,” he added, slightly bowing his head to Thorin.

“Wait! I’m going too,” Thorin stated.

Dís didn’t even try to stop him. She met Balin’s eyes and sighed. Then she nodded at his younger son, who went to his uncle mirroring his hopeful smile.

“Then I’m going with both of you,” Fíli said.

“No, you can’t; the king must remain in the mountain,” Balin indicated.

“Thorin’s the king now!” Fíli complained.

“No, I’m not, you were crowned. At least for now, nephew…” Thorin said with a big smile. He embraced him, kissed his sister and clapped Balin’s back before following Bofur out of the room.

“Bofur!” Balin called the dwarf at the last moment. “Do you know how my brother is?”

Bofur smiled and give him the thumbs-up. Balin nodded and breathed deeply.

“Do you think this time they’ll find him?” Fíli asked Balin. The wise dwarf stared back at him without answering.

“Whatever the case may be, I fear for Thorin if this is another blind alley,” Dís said. “I don’t know how much tension his body could stand.”

“He’ll be fine, he’s strong. But we need to be ready to help him… in any case,” Balin stated.

They waited for news in an anxious silence.

Thorin hadn’t even dismounted his pony when he knew they hadn’t found Bilbo. Dwalin's distressed face spoke volumes to him.

His friend hugged him with his strong arms as soon as Thorin set foot on the floor.

“He’s here?” Thorin mumbled with an anguished tone of voice, hoping for a positive answer but fearing they had found terrible things he didn’t even wanted to consider.

Dwalin shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” Nori said, squeezing both Thorin’s foreams. “The only useful information I got was this address.”

“Any hints?” Thorin requested.

“It’s just an empty storehouse,” Bard said, approaching Thorin with Kíli, Gandalf and Bofur at his back. His son Bain was also with them. “Thorin,” the man greeted the dwarf, taking his hand and clasping it tight. “When I knew… I’m so glad you’re alive. I’d wanted to go to the mountain to see you but… I thought you preferred me here, organizing the hobbit’s search.”

“I’m so thankful for that, my friend,” Thorin answered tiredly. “What do you know about that dwarf?”

“Almost nothing. He was trading iron with some builders, as an intermediary from the Iron Hills.” Noticing the dwarf’s weariness, Bard offered; “Now that you’re here, why don’t you come to my house, please? I’m sure Sigrid and Tilda will be ecstatic to have you at home.”

“Yes, not like the first time!” Bofur joked, not as merrily as he usually did. He was worried about Bilbo, but he was trying to cheer up Bain. The dwarf had become friends with Bard and his family after the terrible events they lived together at Laketown. So he put his hand on Bain’s shoulder and told him about Bombur’s last disaster in the kitchens of Erebor, on their way to the king of Dale’s mansion.

Once there, after tempering their nerves with a little bit of alcohol —this time served by a servant— they talked about Thorin’s and Gandalf’s trip.

“It was easier this time, wasn't it, Gandalf?” Kíli asked. “Gandalf?”

“He’s dozing again with open eyes,” Dwalin muttered, seeming smaller than ever in such a big chair.

“No, I’m not, this time. I have that idea going around in my head; if Mabach was a normal miner at the Iron Hills, according to Nori… how did he go so mad as to become a king-slayer?

“He saw his son dying, savagely killed by Azog,” Thorin said, uncomfortable. “Even my father changed after having seen my grandfather’s terrible death.”

“I’m with Gandalf, a miner is no stranger to tragedies. We work under abysmal conditions, we’re used to death, sometimes in terrible accidents,” Bofur sombrely said.

“Seeing the beheaded body of one’s son is not an accident,” Dwalin grunted.

“And seeing his son die at Azog’s hands was not the worst of it,” Nori added. “The worst was the younger one.”

“What happened with the other son? He never mentioned the way he had met his death,” Gandalf mentioned, interested.

“Well, I understand if he didn’t want to talk about that. The lad was found in a cave on the west mountainside. He was dead already, but…” Nori looked at Dwalin before continuing; “There were also goblins, in that cave. They were… eating the poor lad.”

A chorus of sobs and gasps filled the room.

Bard sent his youngest daughter away and poured more alcohol in everybody’s glasses. He even let Bain and Sigrid drink a little bit, only for medicinal purpose. Then he spoke; “I knew about that poor dwarf; men of Laketown found the body when they were looking for survivors. They finished the goblins and called some dwarves. When the father recognized his son… he went into shock; he didn’t even say a word or shed a tear. He just stared at his son’s broken and torn body until one man took pity on him and tried to get him away from such carnage. The dwarf almost killed him with his mattock.”

Bofur offered a handkerchief to the sobbing Sigrid, who was clenching his brother’s hand.

“Who got him away then?” Thorin asked, his face pale and grave.

“Nobody did. He spent the night there, guarded for some men. I think some dwarves from the Iron Hills went for him in the morning, I’m not sure.”

Gandalf stood then, so abruptly that he knocked down the chair. He didn’t bother to pick it up.

“Where’s that cave?” the wizard demanded with a thunderous tone of voice.

“I don’t know. But I can ask around, some of those men live now at Dale,” Bard answered.

“Do you think Bilbo could be there?” Nori asked. As he had just arrived, he didn’t know about Dís’ rule; all the Company had to take caution in talking about Bilbo being Thorin around.

“Could he?” Thorin required, slipping out of his chair not in a very majestic way.

“Mabach's words about Bilbo’s end were bothering me so much. He said: _‘he is going to end just like my son did.’_ Again he only mentioned one son. I feared that he had beheaded our friend…” he then looked apologetically to Thorin. “But maybe he meant _where my son_ and not _like my son_.”

“I’m going to ask the men who were in the cave after the Battle,” Bard said before leaving in a hurry.

“This is madness,” Thorin said, dreading to get his hopes up only to lose them afterwards.

“I think that makes sense. Mabach was quite insane, in his mind keeping Bilbo where his son had been… well, it would be a hell of revenge,” Bofur debated.

“It’s madness,” Thorin repeated. He was about to lose his control, blaming himself repeatedly in his mind, imagining Bilbo locked up in a place where such vile things had happened….

“Bilbo will be fine,” Dwalin said, approaching him. He knew well his cousin and friend, and he noticed Thorin’s appalling state in his lost look and pained face. “He’s our Burglar, he survived through worse.”

“He had his ring then, he was not alone…” Thorin mumbled. Kíli grabbed his arm trying to appease him.

Tilda entered the room, staring at the dwarves and wizard with her big eyes.

“Father says he’s waiting in the stable,” she said.

All of them quickly went there, following young Bain.

“This is Jorah, he was in the cave that day,” Bard explained without pleasantries. “He will lead us there,” he explained, taking the horse a squire had prepared for him.

“Father, wait!” called Sigrid, running to her father with a bundle in her hands. “This is for Mister Baggins. He’ll surely be thirsty and hungry.”

Thorin personally took the package, thanking her, caressing the top of her head.

The cave was an atrocious sight. Dwarves and human bodies had been recovered after the Battle, but the enemies' bodies had just been burned in place.

A dark burnt pile of corpses, haunted the middle of the place with its sole presence. The air still reeked of death.

And there was no hobbit on sight, no cage, no pits.

“Miners know some tricks,” Bofur said, looking at Thorin. “We know how to hide a new vein or a new unexplored cavern.” He went to one of the walls and put his hand on the solid stone. He smiled while showing them his wet hand. “There’s water here. At least he had water… if he’s here.”

“Nori!” Thorin cried. He was bundle of nerves.

The dwarf went to the farthest wall and began to knock the stone with a spoon.

“Here!” exclaimed the man of Dale, Jorah. “Fragments of small bones and rotten peels of fruits. This is not some animal nest.”

“There’re fresh tracks too,” Dwalin said, his sceptical face changing in a hopeful smile. “How’s that going, Nori?”

“I’m on it, shut up!” Nori complained.

Gandalf bumped his staff on the floor once and a blinding light illuminated the entire cave.

“Thanks Gandalf, that rocks!!” Nori said.

After a while without any news, Bofur joined Nori telling him what places were more probable to be false doors.

“This sounds void!” Nori screamed, lying face down against the floor.

“Move the stone right and left while I push it,” Bofur instructed.

The first sound of rock against rock echoed back in the cave.

Thorin sobbed. Kíli squeezed his right arm so tightly that Thorin gasped and slapped his hand away.

But even Nori’s and Bofur’s efforts the stone didn’t move again.

“You’re not moving it right!” Bofur shouted.

“Damn! Do it yourself, I’ll push it,” Nori’s retorted.

This time their joint strivings worked and the stone ceded.

Bofur grimaced at the stale stench that came from the hole.

“Bilbo?” he asked before entering.

“Bofur? It is you?” answered a hoarse voice.

Men and dwarves breathed a few sighs of relief.

“He’s fine!” Bofur cried after having crawled through the small aperture.

Gandalf clapped Thorin’s trembling back. Dwalin and Nori approached them with matching bright smiles. After all that they had gone through for weeks and weeks, they were thrilled to see the end of it all. Especially with that happy ending.

“Why they don’t come out?” Thorin asked after hearing some whispers and muffled weeps.

“Thorin? Is Thorin here?”

Bard and Jorah were open-mouthed when they saw the circumspect King Under the Mountain tightly embrace the hobbit when he come out of his prison. Kíli, who was there the first time his uncle had hugged Bilbo, merely smiled. Gandalf fondly watched them, and Dwalin and Nori smirked wickedly.

When Bofur finally joined them… he smiled too.

It wasn’t until Thorin tried to join his forehead to Bilbo that he noticed that _his_ hobbit was wearing Bofur’s hat.

“What are you doing with _this_?” Thorin crossly asked.

Thorin’s face went pale when Bilbo took off Bofur’s hat. One side of the hobbit’s face has a large purple bruise. His upper lip had dried blood on a small cut. The dwarf stepped back and carefully noted every one of Bilbo’s bruises, his face snarling increasingly.

“Mabach,” Thorin spat. Bilbo flinched. “Do not be afraid, he’s dead now. What has that rat done to you?” he asked angrily.

Bilbo raised his shoulders before answering; “I’ve been worse. He was perturbed, a tormented soul. He simply didn’t like my thoughts about the Durins.”

“Only you could be kind with someone who had harmed you, my dear friend.”

“Gandalf!”

Bilbo hugged the wizard, who in turn put his big arms around the hobbit.

“Bilbo!”

“Kíli! Dear Yavanna, look at your braids, your clothes! You’re handsome, a true prince,” Bilbo said in wonder.

“Don’t tell him that, he’s bad enough,” Dwalin retorted.

“Dwalin! Nori! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here…” Bilbo said, disappearing between both dwarves.

When the three-way hug ended Bilbo saw the two men.

“I’m so happy to see you again, my little friend,” Bard said, clasping Bilbo’s hand. “This is Jorah, he helped us to find you.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo shyly said. The man smiled at him, thinking how someone could damage such a kind and sweet soul. “How did you know where I was?”

“I was here when Mabach found….” Jorah said.

“His son,” Bilbo finished.

“Do you know, then,” Thorin said, looking guiltily at his hobbit. “Why he wanted revenge. He wanted to die, he leapt into the void condemning you to a slow and terrible demise. If we hadn’t arrived in time….” he explained with a pained face.

“But you arrived, I’m alive,” Bilbo said. Thorin approached him, but the hobbit recoiled. “I’m… filthy,” he said, ashamed.

Thorin smiled and, grabbing his filthy clothes, he pulled him closer and kissed him, taking care of not hurting the wound on his lip.

They ignored the gasps and the laughs, at least Thorin did.

When their _reunion_ finished, they found Kíli watching them with a playful smile, holding a bundle in his hands.

“Some water, uncle?” he asked Bilbo.

Laughs reverberated in the cave, the happiest sound the place had echoed back for a long time.


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [nickygabriel](http://nickygabriel.livejournal.com/) again for the wonderful Fest, I'm still enjoying all the amazing stories.  
> I'm so sorry it took so long to post, I hope you do enjoy the ending.  
> I'm writing a prequel with Dinodas/Bilbo just for the amazing [jali-jali](http://jali-jali.tumblr.com)

Thorin was tired after a whole day contending with Erebor’s subjects.

Their room was deserted, which was rare because usually there was a hobbit waiting for him at the end of every exhausting day of work.

Lately they hadn’t seen each other much, and Thorin, at least, resented that.

But he wanted to surprise his husband with a travel to the Shire on their first anniversary, and he needed to seal some matters before lending Fíli the Throne. Again.

Bilbo’s departing from the Shire had been sudden and hostile, and Thorin knew he was wishing to go and take care of Bag End and his possessions.

A king must not abandon his kingdom, but he had done enough for Erebor to take a little time for himself in return. Besides, there wasn’t a dwarf in all the Lonely Mountain that didn’t adore the Hobbit of Erebor. Thorin detested that sobriquet with fury, even if it was his sister was who crafted it. But Bilbo was his husband, consort of the king of Erebor, that should be his designation and no other. He also loathed how some dwarves used to take the liberty to talk with and touch the gentler hobbit, but that was another matter altogether.

Thorin fondly smiled as he saw the line of pots on a shelf in their parlour. So Bilbo wasn’t _walking_ his flowers….

It all started the day Dís gifted Bilbo with a plant. She noticed that the hobbit was melancholic and missing his home, so she asked Legolas, and the elf gave her a rare species from Mirkwood; one green monstrosity that could live without sunlight and that now grew unnaturally in the royal family hall.

After that, every dwarf from Erebor wanted to present their Hobbit with such a hobbitish gift. Some brought him flowers, some others plants or seeds. He received pots of every colour and material, even ones made of gold. Lord Naruz, from his exile in the Blue Mountains, sent him a mithril pot full of a myriad of seeds from the Shire.

Finally Thorin had to build a greenhouse at the base of the Lonely Mountain, which now was visited even from Dale’s people.

Bilbo just kept two pots with delicate flowers; blue daisies in one and red and yellow zinnias in the other. Every day the hobbit took them to the battlements to get some sun. The guards knew not to knock them in their parade.

Thorin snorted; if his grandfather could see his hobbit consort wandering Erebor with two flowerpots... and the love and respect in his subjects’ eyes every time Bilbo stopped to talk with them….

Thorin wondered where Bilbo was. If he wasn’t with his flowers, Bilbo usually was in the library with Ori, or with Bofur and his band of smallest nephews, but it was late for both possibilities. At that hour Bilbo used to be writing his Chronicle of the Quest, which lay open on his husband’s bureau, a crafted piece that Bofur had gifted them for their wedding.

Thorin was tired and annoyed at Bilbo’s absence. He closed the big book, just to annoy his husband too, as he was told never to do that after that one time he smudged the ink.

What he saw then on the table irritated him more. On the bureau was an envelope with a name that he despised even more than _Thranduil_ : Dinodas.

He didn’t contemplate whether he was doing right or wrong, he just took the letter and read:

‘ _Dear Bilbo,_

_Forgive me for spoiling the surprise, but I can’t wait to hear your thoughts on this matter. My sister is going to marry your other cousin. Can you believe that? Drogo proposed and Primula said yes. The courtship began just two years ago! You should be here to see Hobbiton and Buckland, such a scandal! The usual gossipers —Lobelia one of them— are spreading the rumour that Primula has a bun in the oven. The awful busybodies!_

_I spoke to Primula and she swore that’s not true. I believe her, because the wedding it’s not taking place until summer, and maybe you don’t remember but my sister Amaranth was so big when she was five months pregnant that there’s no dress that can hide **that**._

_Brandy Hall is already a total madness; my father is sparing no expense. My mother is sending invitations to the four Farthings and beyond, as a good Took. Wait for yours and don’t mention I told you first. Dodinas is so done with the wedding that he disappears as often as he can to the Marish. I understand him, as I go to the Old Forest. You know me, I prefer earth to water. Your cousin, on the contrary, seems to have gotten a taste for it, as he goes often boating on the Brandywine with Primula._

_Will you come to the wedding? I know your _Majestic_ husband can’t leave his regal responsibilities, but surely you can come for a family matters. You can stay at Brandy Hall, with me, if you really want to bestow Bag End to Otho and Lobelia. In any case come here first so I can remove that fool idea out of your mind._

_So… tomatoes in winter season? Such a greenhouse you have! If you do come —you must come— bring some of that fertiliser Gandalf the Grey gave you and you can give that to Primula and Drogo as a wedding gift. My mother would love that too. She sends you rewards. She’s so happy the seeds I sent you have grown so well. And I’m happy that you’re keeping the blossoms with you inside the mountain. You must miss so much your green home. And you know, my mother helped me with the meaning of the flowers, but the gesture was all mine._

_As always, I’ll be waiting for your letter. I hope in the next one you’re going to say that you’ll come._

_Yours faithfuly,_

DINODAS BRANDYBUCK

_PS. Please, come._

When Thorin finished reading, he put the letter on the envelope and put the envelope on the table. He opened the book of the Chronicle to the last page and walked to the parlour. Once there he took one of the two pots and forcibly smashed it against the floor. Thankfully it was made of ceramic and broke into pieces. The blue daisies lay on the floor like trash.

Thorin didn’t know a thing about green things or the meaning of flowers, but he remembered Tilda gifting Bilbo a crown of daisies on their wedding, and the little girl had said they meant love.

Thorin didn’t like how Dinodas had begged his hobbit to return to the Shire. And the treacherous creature insinuated that Bilbo must leave him here! Him, Bilbo’s husband! Thorin didn’t even know that Bilbo was corresponding with that… halfling. Bilbo mentioned once that Dinodas had sent him some seeds, but Thorin not even suspected that it had grown into one of his two favourite flowers.

He would show Dinodas a Majestic husband! When they will go together to the wedding he will see that Bilbo’s the happiest husband in the whole of Middle Earth.

Well, maybe Bilbo wasn’t too happy for now, but he’ll work less and he’ll stay more with him, as they were at the Shire. And he was going to begin that very day.

When Bilbo finally arrived, Thorin was nowhere to be seen, but his bureau was clean of books and on it there was a tray with assorted delicious food.

“Thorin?” Bilbo asked, looking for him around their rooms.

“Here.”

Bilbo followed the voice to their bathroom. He opened his eyes wide when he saw his husband taking a bath.

“That seems pleasant,” Bilbo said, pouting.

“It is,” Thorin purred. “Do you want to share?” he teased.

Bilbo was out of his clothes so quickly that Thorin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Shut up, I’m exhausted,” Bilbo said, getting in the big bathtub and leaning his back against Thorin’s chest. “Oh… I was right, so pleasant. Tell me, why we don’t do this more often? I think the last time we bathed together was when you cleansed me after… Mabach.”

As always as that name was mentioned, Bilbo shivered. Thorin embraced his smaller body with his strong arms and kissed his head.

“I had to take care of you as you took care of me. But we’ll do it as often as you want. How was your day? Why are you so tired? I was expecting you sooner.”

“Fala finally gave birth, did you not remember?” Thorin knocked his head against the edge of the tub. “I see. Don’t worry; all went well. Bombur has now another chubby daughter. Kala is her name, Bofur chose it.”

“Tomorrow we’ll go to see them.”

“We? You and Fíli?”

“You and me.”

Thorin felt Bilbo’s smile against his chest and smirked thinking about Dinodas. He poured some soap on his husband’s hair and began to bathe him.

“Dís was there too. I thought Balin had told you.”

“Balin took the day off.”

“Again? Is Dwalin well?” Bilbo asked.

“He’s at Balin’s home. Again. This time was Nori who threw him out of their house.”

“I don’t know why they bother to go away when they never last more than two days apart.”

“According to Dwalin the sex post-argument is sublime,” Thorin casually commented.

Bilbo gasped and then burst into laughter.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” Thorin purred in Bilbo’s ear while soaping his chest.

“Now? I’m too hungry!” Bilbo complained. He stood and Thorin got the best of the position and bit one rounded buttock. “The food is on the table!”

“You hobbits always are thinking about food. Here, rinse your hair, gluttonous creature,” Thorin said, lending Bilbo a jar of warm clean water. Erebor had better plumbing than the Shire.

“You don’t complain when I’m greedy for your cock.”

Thorin chuckled and shook his head. He adored the dirty mouth of his usually proper husband.

When they were clean and dried, they went to bed with the tray of food and ate in the nude. Bilbo soon began to play with both appetites, but Thorin didn’t let him.

“I want to rub your feet,” he proposed, taking the bottle of oil he had arranged for that.

“My feet? Thorin, something happened today?” Bilbo suspiciously asked.

“I just want to take care of my husband for once. After all, you do that for me almost every day. Can’t a king take care of his consort?”

Bilbo raised his shoulders and lay on the bed, yielding to his lover’s desires. Thorin poured some oil over his insteps and began to tightly rub the hairy feet.

Bilbo soon began to purr, as he did when Thorin massaged his back.

“I think you should leave those plants on the greenhouse,” Thorin said.

“Flowers,” Bilbo replied, not opening his eyes.

“Well, that. You shouldn’t carry all that weight.”

“So that's it,” Bilbo said, looking at his husband. “You’re trying to win my forgiveness because you broke my pot.”

“You have seen,” Thorin said, surprised.

“I saw it when I was looking for you, but I forgot when I saw you nude in our tub. It's not a big deal, I’ll plant another. But continue with the rub or I’ll not forgive you,” Bilbo told him with a teasing smile. He closed his eyes again and kicked Thorin’s hands.

“I thought….” The dwarf breathed and continued kneading Bilbo’s calfs. “I thought this flower was special because… it came from the Shire.”

“Lord Nazur’s seeds are growing in the greenhouse.”

“Not those. Dinodas’ ones.”

Bilbo frowned with his eyes closed.

“Dinodas’ flowers are in the tin pot. The one which broke was from Tilda's seeds.”

“But I thought… why keep it here? I thought those were special for you,” Thorin said, confused.

“And they are; a gift from a dear friend. Also… I kept them because they remind me of you,” Bilbo said.

“Me?”

“They’re blue, and daisies mean loyal love,” Bilbo shyly confessed, his big eyes meeting Thorin’s. “Hey, don’t stop the rubbing!” he demanded when Thorin leaned over him. “You were doing it so well.”

“I’ll continue rubbing you soon,” Thorin said with a naughty tone of voice, before kissing his husband deeply. “Tell me, what are the meaning of the other flowers, the ones with mixed colour?”

“Thinking of an absent friend,” Bilbo said against Thorin’s big smile.

“I’m going to take you to the Shire,” Thorin stated between kisses.

“What?” Bilbo exclaimed.

“I was working so many hours because I wanted to leave Fíli prepared, this time. I think when summer comes all will be ready for our escapade, what do you think?”

“I love you! This summer will be a family wedding, it will be perfect! And I can sort out things with Bag End. Oh, Thorin, it will be amazing!”

Thorin smiled against his hobbit’s auburn hair. _His_ hobbit, not Erebor’s, not Dinodas’; Thorin’s hobbit.

“You don’t need to sort out Bag End. Where would we stay on our visits to Hobbiton?”

“Oh, Thorin!” Bilbo just embraced him, not having any words to express his deep happiness.

“It’s a long journey”

“It is, but this time we’ll travel with better means. Maybe Lobelia will have not Bag End, but we can bring her some jewels and clothes from Dale.”

“She would love that. And something for Primula! And for aunt Mirabella!”

“All that you want. Even for Dinodas,” Thorin said smiling. He never should have doubted of Bilbo’s devotion; he would give away the Arkenstone if it meant his husband would be happy. “We can rest in Rivendell; I promised Lord Elrond that we would visit him.”

Bilbo looked at him warmly, went up on tiptoe to kiss and embrace his dwarf. He had endured Thorin’s hours of work too, fearing that Erebor had become more important than him. But Thorin was working hard for him, trying to please him with a journey to the Shire. And he even told him to keep Bag End for their futures escapades!

Thorin was delighted with Bilbo’s beautiful beaming smile, he had missed his smiles the most, those last days. One look at his hobbit’s happy face and Thorin’s life was again full of light and joy. Fíli made him so proud, and Kíli’s cheerful character made him happy. Dís gave him strength to rule, and Balin wise advice. Even Dwalin and Nori were an important part of his life, with their passion and loyalty. But only Bilbo knew how to ease the deepest part of his soul, a dark place he didn’t want to free again.

Bilbo healed his body when he arrived to the Shire asking for shelter, but he had become his refuge in so many ways since that day.


End file.
